My entire life I always felt fat. Obese even. I noticed how my thighs touched or I would pinch my skin in front of the mirror and just cry because I felt so huge. I couldn't understand it. I ate right and worked out and always the girl in the mirror looked so fat. My ass. My boobs. My thighs. Everything!
Looking back at photographs, I don't think I have ever been fat. I just didn't believe it though. I wasn't perfect and I wasn't happy with my body.
I just gave birth to my son almost 2 months ago. I felt so comfortable with my body (usually...) when I was pregnant because I accepted that I was not in control. I could control what I ate but ultimately that baby had to grow, and I had to grow, and I felt adorable with my baby belly. I loved it! In the back of my mind though, I kept thinking "what happens after? What happens if I can't lose the weight? What happens if I have saggy skin and stretch marks?" I didn't want to dwell on it, but I was wondering if I would become very depressed or if I would ever be happy with myself again.
Well, the fateful day came and I met my son. It was by far the hardest, most incredible thing I have ever done. My body did that. My body created this little boy who stole my heart. My body got him safely out. My body continues to keep him alive with breastmilk. My body, the one I always hated, created and sustains life.
I am about 8 lbs away from my pre-pregnancy weight, and it's more like 18 lbs from my ideal weight. You know what? I have never felt more beautiful. Sure, there are a few stretch marks here and there. Sure, my belly hasn't recovered from having the abs literally ripped apart by my uterus. The scales say this is the largest I have ever been but it doesn't bother me. If I went shopping before and I had to look at larger sizes, I would leave and starve myself until I fit into the smaller sizes again. It would ruin my whole week. The Man just took me shopping for my birthday and I hardly glanced at the tags. If it fit well, I was happy.
My body didn't let me down. It did what it was supposed to do. It bears the signs of bringing my snuggly, sweet boy into the world, and I feel fucking beautiful.
I love my imperfect body.