I started at 114 lbs pre-pregnancy, and had gained 65 lbs with my twin daughters by the 35th week when they were delivered preterm by cesarean. Most of the pounds fell off pretty quickly, with exclusive breastfeeding and the energy burned keeping them both as content as possible. I don’t mind the stretch marks on my breasts, knowing they have sated and grown two beautiful healthy 13 month olds. The cesarean scar runs right along the crease where my underwear stop; when I see it, I am amazed that these two lives made their entrance from such a relatively small incision, and I remember the relief and joy their father and I felt that morning when they first opened their lungs and screamed. Then there is the twin skin – a seer-sucker pattern of stretch marks upon stretch marks on my abdomen. It is the hardest to come to terms with. Some days I feel used up, like I understand why barbaric men would take a virgin wife for each child – and yes, every fiber of my feminist being quivers as a forest of knives at such a thought. On my best days, I see the twin skin as the most fundamental body art, hard won, and could parade it unashamed at the beach with my wondrous children discovering sand. I haven’t had any of the latter days in the summertime yet.