I am not, and will never be, skinny. Ok, in my younger years I was kinda skinny, but with curves. Fast forward to now, at age 29, and looking at myself in a mirror, I don’t recognise my body. In fact, I am grateful that my mirror only shows my upper body, because from my waist down, I can’t even look.
But then I had a ‘moment’ a few days ago. This body of mine, scarred, damaged and traumatised from weight gain and loss, and more recently 2 pregnancies that gave me 3 precious children, is my body. I can’t change what the past 5.5 years has done to my body. No, I don’t like what I see, but I’ll be forever scarred. I’ll forever have that little pooch hidden by my pants. I’ll never wear a bikini again. My boobs will never face the same direction. I will most likely never be a size 10 again. I will never be skinny again. And somehow, I’m actually ok with all of it.
My body, as damaged as it is, has housed and nourished 3 children, 2 of them at once! My children are healthy, were born healthy; in fact when the twins were born both my OBGYN and the pediatrician were pleasantly shocked at their weights; 3.1kg (6lb13oz) and 3.52kg (7lb12oz). For twins! So I’ll never be a swimsuit model. That’s fine with me. I am not one of those moms who look like they never had kids, but have like 3 or 4! Heidi Klum and Angelina Jolie to be exact!
No, I don’t like looking at my body in its current state in the mirror. My clothes fit me weirdly because of my lumps and bumps, and I have aches and pains that I never used to. But what exactly is bitching and moaning about it constantly going to do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So when I am ready, I will get back into my running. But there’s no rush.
This is my body, full of stretch marks and cellulite, curves and bumps.
And that’s ok.