Light at the End of the Tunnel (Anonymous)

Previous post here.

I wanted to post an update. In my previous entry, I was 3 weeks pp, and now I am 6 months pp. I still visit this site daily and find encouragement and inspiration in all of the stories written and shared. Every one on here is beautiful and each experience unique; that is what we all need to embrace and LOVE about ourselves. We all have gone through a common experience of carrying a child, but beyond that all of our stories are different. Some of struggle, some of pure bliss, some of uncertainty, some of pain, some of heartache, some of selflessness, some stories that make me want to reach through the computer and hug the original poster, etc… at the end of each story, however, is the same thing; we love our LO’s with all of our hearts, we couldn’t have imagined a love so strong and a dedication so deep beyond the needs of ourselves. We couldn’t imagine life another way…BUT we want our old bodies back!!! Even as much as we hated our bodies pre pregnancy, we wish we had that body of imperfection rather than this body we see today. Guess what. This body today performed a miracle (or maybe two or three, or more!!) and the new “imperfections” we are so quick to point out are those of which tell our unique story.

Trust me, this has been a very difficult concept for me to accept. I will be the first to admit I have spent countless hours searching the internet on mini tummy tucks, tummy tucks, total mommy makeovers, thermage, ItWorks body wraps, etc, etc, etc… but over the past two months I decided to make a change within myself. I started to eat better. I’m not on any fad diets and I definitely don’t deprive myself. But I make it a point to drink lots and lots of water every day. I am always a happier person when I am “fit” so I started a work out routine. Being a full time working mom of 2 and a student, this is difficult to squeeze in but I manage a 25 minute workout MOST mornings and it kicks my arse! Then on weekends I try and do a couple miles run. Other than that, no drastic changes. Even though I haven’t made big changes to my eating and I’ve only incorporated a tiny bit of exercise, I can see a big change in my body, my confidence is through the roof and I am a much happier mom and wife.

I used to look in the mirror in disgust. Most recently I noticed my boobs had shrunk in size and aren’t as perky as they once were. But when I have a good bra on I can sport a v-neck or low cut shirt with “cute/attractive” cleavage rather than the “in your face” cleavage I used to have. I think smaller boobs are more classy ;) And to be honest, I have always wished for smaller boobs. Recently I was thinking breast implants to regain the perkiness but now I look in the mirror and appreciate the softness of them. They seem so feminine and womanly. Maybe I’m having a good week and will have a moment down the line of wanting breast implants again. Either way, I am learning to accept the changes my body has gone through, and continues to go through pp and with age. Underneath it all, I am simply striving to just be a good and better person. That’s what matters most at the end of the day anyways.

So as we wake up each morning and pick apart our “flaws”, let’s do ourselves a favor and weasel in at least one positive compliment to ourselves to kick start our days. Maybe eventually that one compliment will turn into more and take over our self confidence and society as we see it today can kiss all of our butts when we flaunt our mommy bodies with pride!!

I may not be magazine perfect, but airbrush me and I’m damn near close ;) hahahahaha (that’s sarcasm but a sneak peak to what I tell myself to boost my confidence!) I’m far from where I want to be but I know I will get there. And in the meantime, I’m a good mom, a good wife, a good friend, a good sister, and a hard worker, among other things. I am more than my skin and appearances. And so are you. We aren’t perfect, nor will we ever be, but we are who we are and we need to love us. I want my daughters to love themselves the way that I love them, so I need to love myself the way that my mom loved me (she passed Nov. 2012 and the one thing that sticks in my brain every time I find myself dissecting my image in the mirror is her telling me “you have a nice figure, you always have and can wear anything you want because you always look cute”). I would never think less of my daughters if they sported the loose skin, stretchmarks or any other scars, so why do I think less of myself?

Here are some pictures of me 6 months pp.

Will you choose to love yourself? (Jan)

Age: 26
1 pregnancy, 1 child- a daughter, 19 months.

I have posted here before, when my own baby girl (now 19 months) was just eight months old. I was overwhelmed by the encouraging and uplifting comments on my story. Healed by the words of other mothers I didn’t even know. Almost every day I visit this site to read stories left by other women, some of them are so positive and I cannot help but smile and think, “Good for you, Mama.” Others are so heartbreaking, I never realized how many women out there are suffering due to poor personal image, broken relationships, loss of a child, etc. And some women just can’t find the beauty in themselves anymore.

We all have our own story, full of triumphs and letdowns, joy and pain. I want to ask if YOU will make a change today, if you are in a bad situation or feeling down about your appearance… because you cannot give, or get, anything valuable out of life if you do not love yourself! Will you choose to love yourself? For you are a mother. You cried tears of joy or surprise when you found out you were pregnant. You longed to feel like your old self when you were suffering through nausea. You watched the numbers creep up on the scale. You felt the flutters, the kicks, the hiccups, and it made you smile every time. You went through the labor, you gave birth. Your breasts made milk that nourished your baby, or if you did not breastfeed, they still provided a cozy spot for your new baby to cuddle. You somehow managed to make it through as you healed from the delivery and you braved through the intense emotional swings. As your baby got older, you realized more and more that your own dreams would be fulfilled just as long as your child’s were.

A female’s body becomes that of a woman when she becomes a mother. Her body has done what it was designed exactly for. It is so beautiful. I remember as a child, feeling sick or scared, and there was no place I would rather be than cuddled up to my mom’s soft and cuddly chest.

Of course, it is important to be healthy and to care for and love our bodies. To pay our bodies the respect they deserve for all they have achieved. But that doesn’t have to mean being without stretch marks and some extra skin! When is the last time you thanked your body for what it accomplished? Could you possibly stop demeaning yourself because you think your body is ruined? For it is not ruined by bearing children!

To ruin our bodies is to ABUSE drugs, alcohol, and food. Bearing a child is not what ruins our bodies at all.

Strive to be YOUR best, not to look like your “lucky” friend who lost all her baby weight right off the bat. Be realistic, add good whole foods to your diet, thank your body, respect your body, and listen to your partner when he/she tells you that you’re beautiful. Have gratitude. Give to others. Mend relationships. Change the negative things in your life, and if it can’t be changed, eliminate it. Doing all of these things will heal you, inside and out. Words are so incredibly powerful. Say positive affirmations out loud. Eventually the lying voice in your head that tells you that you are worthless and gross WILL go away with time. This is a journey that will take a long time… but it will bring you to a wonderful place where you CAN be a strong woman and mother. A loving, capable mother.

These are things we want to pass on to our sons and daughters, no? Thank you for reading.

First picture: Not even an hour old
Second picture: My daughter at 18 months, walking with her Great Grandmother

Learning to Love (Jill)

It makes me angry how much pressure society puts on women to look perfect at all times, even after bearing a baby. Instead of being proud of growing a life we turn to hate and fail to see the immense beauty that has taken place. Our bodies brought new life into this world and that is amazing!

After having my first son, I hated my body. I was disgusted with myself. I thought it pointless to even try and do anything about it. Pregnant with my second son, I learned to appreciate my body and take care of it. I was carrying my child, my body was doing an extraordinary thing. I’m not quite 3 months post partum from my second son, still over my pre-pregnancy weight, still covered in stretchmarks and sagging skin and I don’t think my body will ever be the same again but I don’t think I’ve ever loved myself more.

25 years
3 pregnancies, 2 births
Sons aged 2 years 9 months and 2 months 2 weeks

This is Me (Leanne)

23 years old, 1 pregnancy 1 birth, daughter aged 4

I fell pregnant a month after my 18th birthday. It wasn’t planned and came as a total shock, but once the initial shock was over, I was happy. I prepared myself mentally for everything that was to come; except the changes to my body. I developed stretch marks at around 22 weeks. I remember seeing one in the mirror for the first time and thinking ‘Oh no, I’m going to have that scar for life!’ but I wasn’t prepared for the dozens upon dozens of stretch marks to follow. By the time my beautiful girl was born, I was covered. I was so happy and thrilled to be a mother that at first I put them to the back of my mind, but as she got older and time went on the more I focused back on myself. I hated my body. I was over-weight, covered in scars, my breasts had dropped after breast feeding and I felt like an old woman. But I didn’t give in to my negative thoughts. By the time my little girl was one years old, I’d joined a diet club and was exercising more and began to slowly lose my baby weight; that’s when the turning point came. As my friends and family complimented me on how much weight I’d lost and how healthy I was looking, it spurned me on. I didn’t go over the top, but just kept to what I was doing and still enjoyed precious time with my daughter. I accepted that I could lose weight if I tried but would never lose the scars. Once I accepted it I started to love my body again. I’m now 23 with my confidence back. My scars tell a story of the most important journey of my life and make me who I am. For the first time since I had my daughter, I wore a bikini on holiday last year. Yes, I don’t have the beach perfect body, but I’m a young woman, who wants to wear a bikini and why should I let worries of what other people may think stop me? As a woman, the greatest thing you can do is bring life into this world, why be ashamed of the signs that have proven you did just that!

My Body is Sexy to Me (MJ)

I’m 25 years young! My kids are 5, 3, and 11 months old! I was 18 when I got pg with my DD delivered her at 41 weeks when I was 19! Got pg again at 21 with DS! He was born on his EDD with a clubbed foot and has some learning delays I love him so much even though, some days are more challenging than others! DS #2 was delivered at 42 weeks when I was 24!! I would love to have another baby we are not using protection but I’m still nursing and haven’t started ovulating yet, I enjoy every minute of motherhood it’s amazing! I’m 5″8 weigh 177 I’d like to lose 22-23 more I’ve been working out and eating healthy my body isn’t that of a 17 year olds anymore but I don’t want it to be im 25 I want a curvy sexy mommy body I’ve earned it! Yes I have stretch marks saggy boobs and a mommy apron and I also have 3 wonderful kids! I think it was a fair trade! I use to be upset about my body but I decided I should pull my big girl pants up and go on with my life and make a conscious decision to love my body everyday and it’s helped! I’m not a drop dead gorgeous model, I’m a mom I’m a wife and I live my life to make my family happy!! Oh Just nursed baby before these pictures so my girls are a little flabby lol!!

~Age:25
~Number of pregnancies and births: 5 Pregnancies, 3 births
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 5, 3, & almost 11months

All three pic are 10 months & 3 weeks pp from baby #3!

I Feel Like a Woman Now, 20lbs Heavier (Ashley)

I have always been a rather thin girl. Perhaps bordering pre-pubescent. I was never one to be hit on or even complimented. Instead I got the, “omg do you need help. Lets get her to a clinic right away.” Standing 5’7″, I was 130 lbs pre-pregnancy and wore a size 7. I had a fairly easy pregnancy until the last 10 weeks and managed to pack on 75 lbs. I was miserable and so swollen I couldnt even wear sandals. I guess this is what the expression barefoot and pregnant is referring to haha. Immediately after I had my son via emergency C section, I was 186, by the time I got home 10 days later due to complications I was 165. And there it sat, for over a month. The scale did not want to budge no matter what I did. So I stopped worrying about it, donated all my old clothes and treated myself to some new pieces that were made for my new size and shape. Today, 3 months postpartum I am 150lbs and wearing a size 11. When I first came home from the hospital I cried. My body was never going to be the same, but then this strange thing happened. I felt womanly for the first time in my life. No longer am I being looked at and treated like a 13 year old girl. No longer does my husband feel like he’s a pedophile (ok, maybe this is just my strange sense of humor talking). I LOVE looking in the mirror and seeing curves. Real live curves. I feel sexy, I feel womanly. I feel like people look at me and respect me as a mother. I am thankful for this extra weight.
Yeah, I do have plenty of stretch marks and that lovely flap of skin over my incision but my advice to all ladies struggling with your new bodies is: Give it time. The more you love yourself the better you will look. Don’t aim to fit into your old pants. Dress for the body you have now.

First Picture: 40 weeks pregnant
2nd pic: 39 weeks pregnant_front
3rd pic: 9 days post partum
4th pic: 3 months post partum
5th pic: My son at 3 days old
6th pic: My son at 3 months oldI Feel Like a Woman Now, 20lbs Heavier

They Say it Takes Nine Months (Anonymous)

Previous posts start here.

23 years old
one pregnancy, one birth (an adorable son)
I’m now 9 months postpartum. I have a few dresses: size 6, size 8, size 9. I have several jeans: size 8, size 9, size 10, size 13. I have shirts: S, M, L. I am between an A cup and a B cup. I am five foot seven inches and 160 lbs. My measurements are 36 (34A)-28.5-43. Dark brown hair. Blue green eyes.

What do these numbers mean? What do they make me?
They can’t give you any insights into my character.
They can’t tell you that I can hoist 250lbs+ with my “thunder thighs”.
They can’t describe the work I put in to do pull-ups.
They can’t tell you I have an IQ of 153. Or that I love books. Or that I have a warped, twisted sense of humor and love to laugh.
They can’t describe the lengths I will go to in order to help my friends: midnight phone calls, trips to the ER, “cheer-up” trips, lending money.

They don’t give you any idea of the pain I’ve felt in just the last nine months: my grandmother dying, an old friend writing me a good-bye e-mail and committing suicide before I could do anything, another friend lost both legs and an arm in Iraq, I worried about another friend possibly committing suicide, I worried about my own health postpartum, I worried about my relationship with my husband, I worried about my own body and attractiveness.

Those numbers won’t do you any good in telling you how I’ve battled an eating disorder for over a decade, or how I overcame the desire to self-injure years ago.

They also won’t do any good in telling you that I love comedy, drama, action, animals, psychology, running, swimming.

They won’t describe the incredible relationship I have with my husband or the overwhelming love we both have for our son.

THESE NUMBERS DON’T tell you anything IMPORTANT about me.

They say it takes nine months for your body to “go back to the way it was.” I respectfully disagree. My body is different, not less attractive nor more attractive. It’s very close to how I was pre-pregnancy, but I recognize the subtle differences in my curves and various lumps and bumps :) I looked in the mirror yesterday morning and saw my body as a whole instead of the usual random conglomeration of body parts haphazardly sewn together like some kind of disproportionate frankenstein. I am not the sum of round arms, chubby legs, lovehandles, thick calves, and a soft-but-toned stomach. I am just ME. And I say take ME as I am, because I don’t want part of any friendship or acquaintance with anyone who thinks a person can be summarized by a small, narrow scope provided by a few numbers.

I am beautiful. And my stretch marks and scars only add to my beauty and uniqueness as a person. I am happy with myself, and I hope that all you ladies on this site can find your own beauty too.

Bearing It (Christina Plant)

My last entry was about where my heart is and how our physical flaws should not prevent us from celebrating who we are on the inside. I showed photos of myself from a couple of different races and my shorts fit so that the stretched hanging skin was not visible. When I wrote that entry, I had run several race distances: 5k, 15k, 10 miler, 20k, and half marathon.

I am proud to be a mother of three sons. I am proud to say that I worked hard to regain confidence in my physical appearance and in my athletic capabilities. (Actually, I had no athletic capabilities before I was a mother- but that is another story.) I earned my position at every starting line with my own drive and determination. This year (the year that I turn 36) I decided I was ready to raise the bar. Did you ever just get the feeling that even though something seemed nearly impossible that you could do it? When something within you that you can’t describe steadfastly believes that you can?

I began training for my first marathon in February of this year. For those who do not know, a marathon is 26.2 miles long. Any other race that is not 26.2 miles is NOT a marathon. Only 1% of the population ever completes a marathon. I used to say I would never do it. But this year, something made me certain that I could. I know a few people who have completed a marathon. They are not better or stronger or more capable than me. If they could train hard and get it done, then there was no sensible reason to say that I could not. I was on fire for this goal. I knew it was going to be difficult and feel impossible at some points but I also know something about myself: if I want it enough, I will get it. (And I am not better or stronger or more capable than anyone else who aspires to a goal. If you want it- whatever “it” might be, start working. If you don’t stop working even when it sucks, then you will get it.) Wishing for, wondering, thinking about or planning is not the same as WORKING to get it. Once I stopped all that and started working, unsurprisingly, I got results.

I ran my first marathon in Lake Placid, NY (that’s right- Adironacks!) on June 12, 2011. I ran the whole thing (with the exception of a few steep downhill portions) and finished strong. Every mile was dedicated to someone I loved and that is what kept me going for 26.2 miles of rolling hills. The runners that surrounded me were such an inspiration. Every person that steps out to the start impresses me. I don’t care if you finish in 3 hours or 8 hours. Everyone has a reason for why they are there that goes deeper than the actual physical run. What an honor to stand among all of these bold determined people and begin this grueling but glorious journey together.

All types of people run. It’s fascinating and liberating to see that sheer will and determination has no standard shape or size even for this extreme distance. If you want it, get it, right? Don’t wait until your belly is perfectly flat. Don’t wait until your arms are toned. Don’t wait until you are a size 4. You’ll always find some other flaw anyway so celebrate who you are inside AND outside now. This was part of the reason I decided to run a marathon- I wanted my body to do something amazing. I wanted to feel what it is like to believe and endure and keep moving (literally) toward my goal even when it seems impossible and even when I didn’t want to keep going. To believe beyond reason when the only reason to believe is to show yourself that you can- that you will- if you want to enough.

During this race, I noticed something. There were very few who were not lean or aesthetically ideal who stripped down for the sake of comfort. I tend to take the “when in Rome do as the Romans do” stance on things, so I did not shed my top layer. This was mainly because I was wearing new shorts that seemed to ride lower than I’m used to and I didn’t want to be self conscious of the stretched skin on my stomach while I was running. I was hot. Then it down poured for 40 minutes and I was soaked to the bone. But I ran in a soaking wet shirt instead of bearing it in my sports bra and shorts like so many others did.

What if I didn’t care? What if the others who weren’t “perfect” didn’t care either? What if we showed the world and the media that we are happy with who we are and that we don’t need to hide or alter our bodies to feel amazing and alive? Why do I care? I’m a mother. I’m proud of what my body has accomplished and I’m happy to tell any woman that I love my body even though I am flawed from pregnancy and I am always willing to show her if she doesn’t believe me. I actually thought about this for awhile I was running and wondered how I could change this. How could we all change it and remove the silly notion that women’s bodies are better when artificially modified? Am I the only one that thinks it’s silly to wear a bra that pushes your breast up to your neck? Wouldn’t it be frightening if your boobs were really that high? Wouldn’t it be tiresome to have to hold your baby up to them while nursing?

Anyway, I crossed the finish line and was overjoyed and beyond proud. This was the moment that I spent months training for. This was what running over 400 miles during training was all about. No one did this but me. So I had to do something even more amazing. I registered for another marathon just two weeks after this one. I wanted to qualify for a Marathon Maniacs membership and one way to do that is to run two marathons in 16 days or less.

I found myself in Pennypack Park in Philadelphia, Pa two short weeks later struggling through the same distance. It was much hotter (mid 80’s) and I was literally drenched in sweat by mile 9. I saw the same trend- the lean, tight-bodied, and young stripped down so as to be more comfortable in the heat. The chubby, old, and disproportionate tended to stay covered, with rare exception. I had already decided that I would strip down too. Who else was out there running their second marathon (ever) just two weeks after their first? Who else among these runners raised on a diet of ramen noodles, rice, and canned vegetables who barely passed phys ed and never dared to participate in school sports? Who else had three children and was in the best shape of their life just as these children are entering adolescence?

So I did what I should’ve done in Lake Placid. I took my top layer off. I purposefully wore the same shorts that were too low to hide my lower abdomen. AND I purposefully wore a sports bra that had no padding/enhancement/etc. If I don’t fearlessly do this, what am I saying to myself? That I’m not good enough? Why? Because I didn’t see the purpose of having a surgeon implant sacks of saline into my chest? Because I believe it’s illogical to have a surgeon carve out the skin that stretched during of the precious time that I carried my sons? I need to mull over the previous paragraph again if any part of me believes that I’m not good enough. No one needs to hide. Yes we should all strive to improve. Better yet- strive to do something amazing. Something that amazes you. Something you have always wanted to accomplish or something you never thought that you could do. Work your ass off. Do not give up. Take all the time that you need. But for goodness sakes, do not hide. If you love who you are and who you strive to become, please do not hide what is inside or outside. Bear it. And be grateful and proud. Who’s with me?

Picture Me (Lady Tea)

Age: 34
1 pregnancy, 1 child (5 years old)

Originally posted at Lady Tea’s blog.

This photo is quintessential me: sunglasses on my head, always a sweater handy (layers, you see, are a very important defense against schizophrenic Delaware weather), sandals (not quite as good as barefoot, but close), hanging out in nature with my favorite little guy.

It’s one of my favorite photos – but not so much for how I look. I like it because of how I felt about myself when it was taken.

I have had body issues since I was eight years old. I was a heavy child (teased mercilessly), an anorexic teenager (but I learned how to be sassy), and I’ve been up and down ever since. Even when I was at a healthy weight for my height (six feet), I never felt comfortable in my own skin until after my son was born.

In his first year I lost something like 75 pounds from my pregnancy weight (from a combination of nursing and a dairy/soy free diet for my son’s infant food allergies). I was back at the weight I think suits me best, and for the first time in my grown-up life I felt right. I thought I looked good – proud of what was long and what was curvy, but not worried about what wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone – I was too busy enjoying being a mommy – and being me.

This picture is from just about that time.

When my son was two, I injured my back trying to haul him into his car seat (gawd love him, he thought it was great fun to run through a parking lot). It took me ten months to recover, and by that time I had become must less active. I finally learned to combat the pain with McKenzie stretches, but within a few months after that I developed a terrible sinus infection that morphed into daily migraines. In the two-and-a-half years since I’ve had sinus surgery, a mess of medical tests and procedures, and been on and off a variety of medications including a blood pressure med that caused me to gain twenty pounds (the doctor said it would come right off when I stopped taking it– it didn’t). I’m now thirty pounds heavier than I was in this picture, dependent on pain killers for chronic pain, and leading a far too sedentary life.

On the bright side, I’ve managed to hold onto the stronger body-love that giving birth to my son gave me. I mean I’m not thrilled with what I see in the mirror, but I (rarely) get hung up on it the way I used to, and I can still find things about myself to be proud of. For example, my breasts are plump and bouncy, and quite useful for drawing attention away from my weak chin. Also, my legs are still long and look good in tight jeans – height has its advantages.

Still, this photo reminds me of things I’d like to have back. I’d like to be able to take those long walks without getting winded. I’d like to fit in those skinny jeans again. I’d like to be more healthy overall – I’ve been struggling for that, but somehow it keeps dancing just outside of reach. I feel like I’ve got so many things clamoring for my attention that I can’t seem to give my own body and health the focus that it needs.

And by many things clamoring, I pretty much mean that little guy in front of me. I feel like it’s all I can do to keep up with him, to give him all that he needs, to be a good Mommy. The things that make up the rest of me – writing, friendships, work, volunteering, maybe even a full uninterrupted thought – get squeezed into the margins, and there’s just not much energy left over to… count calories. Do stretches. Hike the trails. I mean, I try. But it’s hard.

Motherhood is such a give and take. I feel blessed – and stressed. I feel good about myself, but too tired to feel better.

Still, I think it’s better than living to extremes – too heavy, too fat, and never happy or at home with who I am. I feel like I’m moving closer to balance. With time, maybe I’ll get back to that healthy medium and, because of this struggle, maybe then I’ll have the strength to maintain it.

In the meantime, I got a pretty cool (if rambunctious) little sidekick to keep me on my toes.

Just Me (Anonymous)

I’ve been pregnant twice and have a fantastic “5 and 3/4 year old” daughter. I’m 38, 5’2″, and 140 pounds, which puts me right at the beginning of the overweight BMI category [per World Health Organization]. With my ribcage measuring at 30″ and bust at 39″, my bra size is a preposterous 30-I, or 32-H, or 34-G. How much do breasts weigh anyway?

Alongside many survivors of child sexual abuse and neglect I have struggled with disordered eating, body dysmorphia, toxic self-criticism and suicide attempts. I recently realized that perhaps one of the reasons I feel so shocked and dismayed when I catch an unexpected glance of myself in the mirror is that I am looking out with the eyes of a child and looking back as a media-hazed critic aware of the most minute of flaws.

After a flux throughout early adulthood stabilizing my health and weight I arrived pre-pregnancy at 115 pounds quite consciously, still aware of the imperfections of pendulous breasts and compulsively squeezing into jeans that were a size too small, even though I was smaller than most Americans. I breastfed for 2.5 years and happily, sanely, got down to 125 pounds at 3 years postpartum. Then I started taking a beta-blocker medication to reduce PTSD symptoms and my weight went straight up to 140+. I’ve tried for a year balancing calories in and out after quitting the meds to get the weight to drop, but it really isn’t going anywhere despite my ongoing concerted effort! My best hope is to keep it from going up since I’m teetering on the edge of overweight and my mother is obese with diabetes.

I have searched the web for photographs of actual women my age and size in their “natural” state to help me get a grip on body image anxieties, but I’m sure to no surprise, found very VERY few, even though my body type seems to be pretty common. I did find a lot of porn, some celebrations of anorexia, airbrushed and photo-shopped celebrities, and this website. I also found an energetic youTube video from a 18 years younger woman who is my size and happy as a clam, since she just lost 30 pounds to get there.

For my photograph, I choose to use a pose and location that signified feeling good in my body, which I think should be a true and heavily weighted measure of health. I also wanted to include as many of my body parts as possible, to wander away from the fragmented dissociation that is typical with body dysmorphia and celebrate all of the parts that make me. I also wanted to include my face/head, especially after viewing many youTube documentations of weightloss that cut the subject off at the neck. Ironically, as I watched those headless weigh-ins and self-assessments, my appreciation for each woman was unbounded. If I could feel limitless love for the body of a headless stranger, no matter her size, couldn’t I feel it for myself?

Pregnancy changes: My feet increased by 1/2 a size. My hips spread out and added several inches in that area. My breast cup has increased several sizes. If I gain weight now, it is likely to go into my lovely mummy tummy.

I am very happy to participate in this website and hope that many more women do, so that finding reflective non-sexualized images is not a struggle for others. My husband wants to know, is there a “Shape of a Father” website?