Our Bodies, Our Selves

Anyone who has been reading this blog for awhile knows that I battle monstrous weight demons. Sometimes they heckle me incessantly for weeks at a time, pushing me to eat less and exercise more while never letting me feel good about myself, and sometimes they whisper quietly enough that I can shush them easily and enjoy splitting a turtle cheesecake with a friend and the way my curvy size 12/14 body looks in a tailored blazer and A-line skirt.

I had weight issues before I was ever pregnant. I was overweight, bordering on obese (according to the BMI categories, anyway) and I was scared shitless of the road that I was on. So I decided to turn my life around and lose the freaking weight. It took about 8 or 9 months, but I lost almost 35 pounds. I dropped 2 1/2 sizes and was in the best shape of my life, aside from when I played varsity volleyball in high school. I looked great, and I felt great. There is a picture of me and Basil at a friend's wedding where I am wearing this spankin' hot black sequined bustier top and black pants that look like a skirt. I think I got as many compliments as the bride that night.

Then I got pregnant with Petunia, and I felt like shit for the first trimester. I was nauseous and had horrific heartburn all the time, and carbs made it better. I ate macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes at every opportunity because they made me feel like I didn't want to ralph. During the second trimester, I was rabidly hungry, and I ate to prove it. Food tasted great again, and I literally ate it up. During the end of my pregnancy, I pretty much lived on Ben & Jerry's.

I only gained about 38 pounds when all was said and done (a little over the recommended range but not horrible), partly because I made a real effort to walk regularly during the second and third trimesters. But I lost all my muscle tone.

I lost about 2/3 of the weight in the post-partum months, partly from breastfeeding and partly from running around like a chicken with its head cut off. But I never got back to my pre-pregnancy weight. For a long while, I was a good 14-15 pounds off. Then I buckled down and lost about 12 pounds. Unfortunately, in the past few months, I've gained about 8 pounds of that back, so now I'm about 10 pounds off my pre-Petunia weight.

But my body has never been close to my pre-Petunia shape. Never.

My belly is flabby and stretched out. It sags and droops. I have shiny white scratches all over from where my stretch marks have faded. When I wear bikini underwear, my belly droops over the edge like the 'before' pictures advertising plastic surgery in magazines.

I look at friends and strangers who have small children, walking around in their size 4 or 6 or 8 pants thinking, 'How did they do that? How did they lose the flab? Are they more disciplined than me?' And I always felt really inadequate looking at women who seem to have bounced back from the journey of childbirth in a way that - I'll take a deep breath and admit it here, to myself and everyone - I never will.

And then this morning, I saw this post by Tertia of So Close, linking to a new website getting a lot of buzz, The Shape of a Mother. I'm not very cool when it comes to the blogosphere, so I hadn't seen it yet.

Wow.

I read, I looked, I read, I looked, I looked, I marveled, I - must admit - recoiled a few times, I teared up, I imagined my own head on many of those headless bodies.

And most importantly, I thought, I'm not the only one.

After being addicted to celebrity magazines that celebrate the textbook-perfect 25-pound weight gain, the personal trainer at 2 months postpartum and the appearance of never having carried a baby at all, I think the work that Bonnie at The Shape of a Mother is doing is important. It's a real-life answer to Heidi Klum strutting the runway a couple of months after giving birth.

I don't know whether I have the confidence yet to say that I think the post-partum body is beautiful. I think I have too many years of societal norms crammed into my head to say that stretch marks and flab are beautiful.

But I think this website makes the point that post-partum bodies should be honored and respected for the amazing work that they have done. Much the way that elders are treated in Native American and Asian cultures, women's bodies after birth should be revered for their experience - not hidden away in shame and not treated as though they are inferior for their authenticity.

And while The Shape of a Mother will not get me into a bikini anytime in this life or wearing a midriff-bearing shirt that says 'I'm beautiful dammit!', it does give me the ability to look at my body in the mirror with a gentle understanding and deep appreciation that hasn't been there before.