Updated: Oct 28, 2022
Alright kiddos so it’s 19 months later and the body dysmorphia I experienced during pregnancy and after childbirth is FINALLY starting to take her raggedy ass stiletto off my fucking neck. But man… what a journey this has been, holy fucking shit, let’s talk about it, y’all!
I fall in line with most people when I say that pregnancy and childbirth changed my body tremendously. I went from slim-thick with 38 B cups sitting nicely, to round and squishy with 48 DD wreaking havoc after pregnancy. I’m short with long arms and legs, my torso is practically nonexistent, so I was all belly and boobs, but carried in my hips. Have the nearest Auntie explain that to you if you don’t get it. Anywho, I’d never had big boobs before so for a while I was honestly kind of living for that part of it. However, after 3 days of labor and an emergency c-section, I was swollen, SUPER swollen. All the fluids I was pumped with had me feeling like Violet Beauregard’s ole blueberry head ass. No one prepared me for that at all. NO ONE! And I feel bamboozled, honestly.
At the end of it all, I had new visible veins in my hips and legs, all these little stripes, and everything just felt… wrong. Never in my life had my body moved the way it did back then. Shit was unreal! I didn’t even know my stomach could move unprovoked like that. The sheer jiggle of it all, my god! Couple that with the fact that all this was happening during a pandemic, so I wasn’t going out as much because I refused to get caught up in someone else’s germs and foolishness before I’d gotten vaccinated. So I sat in my sad little puddle of mush at home, unmotivated to move and do much of anything, and as if that wasn’t enough, I was doing battle with some major postpartum depression and anxiety. I became a fruit roll up. I hated my body, I hated the way I looked, and I wasn’t kind to myself. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t on a one-way trip to being on ‘My 600lb Life’. I just knew that mean ass doctor in Texas was gonna be threatening me and reading me for absolute filth.
That’s what I thought of myself and even though I did gain weight, I was fine and, according to my doctors, completely healthy. My body had done an incredible thing under some risky circumstances. It carried and delivered a child during a pandemic and sustained me while I worked 10-12+ hour shifts at the vet clinic (shout out to my AHVC fam). It found this impossible source of strength to keep me going while separated from everything that was familiar to me. I still don’t know how I did it, but my body sure did. I don’t know when that new perspective dawned on me but, when it did, everything shifted for the better.
I’ve been in this body for 35 years and one week as I write this, and I’m feeling this immense sense of gratitude for it and I’m loving it in a new way. My body’s sporting these dope ass tiger stripes now, this adorable little smiley scar under my belly, and my boobs are a little less enthusiastic then they used to be, but still sit nicely when it’s required. But bay-bee, please believe me when I tell you that on my worst day, I’m still somebody’s fine ass Mama. Okay?!
I used to stress over getting back to myself in every possible way, finding me again, and not getting lost in motherhood. However, I’ve realized that it wasn’t about getting back to anything at all, but more so discovering who, and what, emerged after all that. When people ask me what I think about marriage and what it is, I give the same answer and it applies here as well… stay with me, it’ll all make sense, I promise. So my thoughts are that in marriage you’re committing to meeting every new version of your partner and falling in love with them all over again; same applies to my relationship with my body and myself. With every major life event, I have to meet the person that emerges after everything is said and done. I’m a huge fan of this me, and I can’t wait to see what this next year of life has in store for us. And I’m so proud of myself for that growth and the ability to see it, y’all. ‘Cause whew!
So the take away is to be patient with yourself and give yourself some damn grace when you’re striving towards a goal. It took me over a year to get here and it certainly wasn’t smooth sailing, but bitch I’m coasting now, goddammit! I’m really loving what I see when I look in the mirror and give myself grace on the days I struggle to see. Also try moving your body and wringing out that stored trauma, it helps so much, but that’s another topic for another day. Anywho, I believe in your growth and upward trajectory. You got this, whatever it is, just don’t give up. I see you!
Also, make sure you drink your water, support Indigenous causes, have a great weekend, and remember it’s fuck that genocidal, pedophile Columbus for all of eternity and beyond. Okay, love y’all, mean it!
**Alexa play 'Cozy'**
Also, make sure you’re up to date on my novella ‘Situationships & Sippy Cups’. It is available on Kindle Vella in the Amazon store, check it out!!!