I remember the day after giving birth, looking at my saggy, stretch mark riddled stomach in the bathroom mirror and knowing I’d never looked stronger or more beautiful. I made a promise to never speak ill about this powerhouse of a body again. It made a human being FROM SCRATCH!
7 months later, and that promise is wearing thin. This journey to lose the baby weight with as much grace and patience as I can muster has been…rocky.
Since my gawky middle school days, I’ve been aware of the size of my body and exactly how much room I take up in a room. There have been times where I’ve embraced my 6 foot tall frame and German legs and wide hips and gone on to win medals and find love and hold my head up high. There have been times where I’ve slouched to look shorter, avoided dressing rooms for months, and watched my body get bigger the more I wished it would just get smaller.
This time, though, there’s a little girl watching everything I do. Every time I try something on and make a face at how I look, she’s there. Every time I fix a snack, she’s watching (and wanting a taste, too). Every time I make it to the Y to go running, she’s alongside me. This makes me equal parts paranoid (I’m going to pass my issues with weight and self worth onto her!) and empowered (wow, I have the chance to raise this girl to love herself and her body.)
This is a post I’ve been trying to write since 3 months postpartum. It’s a post I’ll probably write again and again and again. I don’t have it figured out yet. This is where I am in my journey: somewhere between trying to lose another 20 lbs and trying to love my body as it is. Somewhere between wanting to feel and look my best and just wanting to make it through the day. Somewhere between mirroring my best self to my daughter, and mirroring that we should love ourselves just as we are in this moment.
Which, 6 out of 7 days, is happy and healthy. A little softer and squishier than normal, but the perfect body for snuggling a little one toothed babe.