I’ve never had the perfect figure.
I used to be really thin, in school, when I still did sport. But sadly I did pick up weight slowly after school… losing a ton before the wedding, and picking up more, then losing a whole bunch just before I got pregnant again. While I was pregnant I picked up near on 20 kilograms – which really isn’t so cool, but I enjoyed the chocolates. The thing is, even though I have now lost more than half the weight I gained in pregnancy, my body has changed…
My tummy looks like a roadmap of Cape Town, with the stretch marks. The muscles are weak, there is a huge ugly scar below my belly button. Although my pre-pregnancy clothes fit, they don’t close around my tummy. Its frustrating, and sometimes I get crazy with envy when I walk past the fit, slim girls who have no kids, in their tight jeans.
Then I look at my son.
For nine months he grew inside me, he was nurtured by my body. He grew and grew, and stretched my skin, growing into a kicking little person. They had to cut him out, leaving a forever reminder. Now he’s fed by my body, he’s grown into this beautiful 3 month old little boy, a strong little boy. My body has worked hard, its stretched and pulled and been cut for this little miracle.
Yes, I have weight to lose, from before I was pregnant even. I will never have a flat smooth stomach, I will not be able to wear a bikini in public (not that I really would, modesty and all). But what I have to show for it, is something way more precious, way more beautiful, way more lasting than a perfect body.
I wouldn’t change my body for the world… and its taken me 24 years to realise that.