How do I feel about my post-baby body? In January 2013 I had a body I was super proud of. I was a size 6/8 which was small but I was used to it. I just couldn’t put on weight. I’m on the slightly shorter side of average. I’ve never been blessed with decent boobs. I’m a firm member of the itty bitty titty committee. Throughout my teenage years, I had convinced myself boys would never fancy me because I essentially looked like an ironing board- entirely shapeless. I spent many years coming to terms with my slender figure and eventually learning to love it.
Then in November 2013, I fell pregnant and things began to change dramatically. What started with a tiny cute bump turned in to wobbly thighs, a big bum and more stripes on my belly than all of the zebra crossings in my local town altogether.
After I had Holly in August 2014 my flat stomach returned after about 2 weeks. Everyone remarked on how I managed to harbour a 7lb 2 oz baby in my tiny frame. I was a little chunkier than before, and I’d never be able to fit in a size 6 again – My teeny hips were obliterated by pushing a baby out my foof. But I was for the most part happy.
Then September 2017 happened. We welcomed baby Harry. Harry at 7lb 8oz and 9 days overdue had a big strain on my body. Now I had more stripes on my belly, thighs and bum than Britain’s zebra crossings in their entirety. But it’d just go back to normal like last time right?
Wrong. I am now almost 1 year post-partum and my body is its new shape. I must admit to feeling a bit gelatinous. Everything wobbles a bit. I’m now a size 10. Although my size doesn’t define me, and a size 10 isn’t big… It still feels like quite a difference for me and a big change for me to adjust to. I seem to go up a dress size with every pregnancy.
It’s easy to sometimes get depressed about my new shape. I mean, if I was going to put on weight – couldn’t it at least be on my boobs as well so I look a little more proportionate? When I sit, my empty mum-tum hangs over my jeans slightly.
Pictured – Bloated after dinner belly complete with stretch marks.
I’m learning to accept this new shape. It isn’t perfect. My body is now like a melted chocolate bar you find and the bottom of your bag on a hot day. A bit squishy, a bit messy, far from perfect; but it still (be delicious?) serves its purpose. I’ll always be a bit wider on the bottom than my top unless of course one day I can magically afford breast implants that’ll make me look like a buxom barbie.
During my pregnancies, I discovered I love for food I’d never had before. This again contributes towards my wobbly figure. I’m learning that just because I CAN eat an entire Dominos Pizza followed by Ben & Jerry’s Birthday Cake ice cream in one sitting – doesn’t mean I absolutely have to. In fact, I should be banned from every dominos pizza in the country; Actually, anywhere that serves pizza.
SIDENOTE: I think the food analogies speak for themselves really in this post… really shows you my new relationship with food.
I’ve got a long journey to go before I reach acceptance. As corny as it sounds, this is my body. I only have one of them. And it’s not ‘destroyed’ it’s just a bit different. It’s the vessel which grew and kept my two babies secure until after their due dates. It nourished them and carried them. So my body’s new shape although not conventionally beautiful did a beautiful thing still. I’ll never look like Kendall Jenner. I think I’m finally on the road to accepting this new, slightly wobbly shape. It’s mine to love.
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