My body has changed a LOT since I’ve had Luna. I went from a size 10 to a size 14/16, from no boobs to bazukas and from a nearly flat stomach to a c section, capital B shaped overhang. But I’m kind of ok with that. This picture is probably the best way of showing just how much it’s changed, these are my pre baby bikini bottoms and there’s no way these hips and ass are ever getting back into them!
The last year or so my body confidence has improved dramatically. I realise now that constantly striving to be a bit thinner, a bit more toned a bit more “perfect” was destroying me mentally and my relationship with my body changed dramatically.
I still have bad days, I don’t think anyone in the world doesn’t. I’d be lying if I said I loved what I see in the mirror every day or didn’t have days when I would love to be able to chop off the excess chub and say goodbye to it for ever, but on the whole, I’m happy. I’m very open about my long and winding journey to self love and sometimes post on social media about my feelings toward my body and self. Every time I do I get told that my body has made a human and therefore it is wonderful, and although I hugely appreciate the sentiment I can’t help but give a secret eye roll every time and here’s why.
My body is wonderful. Period. There needs be no end to that sentence. Not only do I feel like that idea takes away my individuality as a human and lumps me under the label “mother” I can’t help but think of the people reading it who have not had children, through choice or otherwise, who may read it as they’re bodies are anything less than amazing as a result. Which is NOT true, all bodies are fucking fabulous. Period.
Nemimothers 