Yesterday I cried as I looked down at my saggy, stretch-mark belly. It complimented my fat hips and newly formed “mom-butt”. My boobs were unshapely under the bras that don’t quite fit and my once cute panties have seen better days. My skinny jeans sit in the bottom of a box along with the tank tops I’ll never wear again.
As I put on my high wasted jeans and loose top, I cried. It just didn’t seem fair. All day I moped around the house, feeling gross and unappealing. I felt disgusting, all because I gave birth to my gorgeous daughter. It didn’t seem right.
And it isn’t.
Everywhere shows us what women are supposed to be. Apparently, mothers are not one of those things. The idea of child-bearing has changed so much in the past few decades. What was once an accomplishment, a success is now more of an inconvenience. As soon as that baby is out, it’s back to the gym to get rid of the fat and marks, so in a few weeks it’s as if you never had a child. And maybe that’s the point.
Today is the day I start trying to lose the weight. Get my thighs back to a reasonable size, and the new hips have got to go. Maybe, I’ll keep those stretch marks for a bit longer (as if I had a choice). Just to remind me of all I had to endure to create the perfect little girl. They are something not just anyone has. They are the sign of a mother.
Children: One, she’s one month old