Four years and saggy boobs later

Warning: this is a body image post. Even worse, it's a mommy bloggy body image post, as if the world needs any more of those. But this isn't a feel-good piece about loving your body just as much post-baby (Because I don't), and it's not about whether children are worth it (because they obviously are if you want them). This is a post about whether our outsides match our insides by accident or design. 

I wrote a bit on this blog about body image during my first pregnancy, four years ago. I celebrated the roundness of first-time pregnancy curves and lamented bodily autonomy from the perspective of a 24-year-old as that gestation progressed. However, I felt no need to revisit those subjects during my second pregnancy as a 28-year-old-- a pregnancy that came to a close with the birth of my beautiful daughter one month ago-- partly because it felt like old hat and partly because I have less time for self-indulgent ramblings in general.

Though I spent nine months wallowing in the **unique and exciting** world of baby-growing as if I were the first woman to discover reproduction during my first pregnancy, I did not write about postpartum recovery after the birth of my son. I do, however, remember feeling attractive seven weeks after his birth, when I went out with some friends for my 25th birthday. I remember getting dressed on that night in a tight, jersey knit Victoria's Secret dress and deciding not-- NOT-- to wear spanx at the last minute. 

I feel all right about my pushing-thirty self right now, but I don't see myself forgoing spanx any time in the near future. I also don't remember feeling so (physically) mommish after Charlie was born. It's possible my memory is failing me, but I can't recall a time when I looked in the mirror and saw what I felt to be a stereotypical mom body back then. Now, it's all I see. My milk-laden boobs are as big as last time, but aren't they a little less pert? I gathered a handful of stretch marks around my hips this time around (a phenomenon I manged to avoid until after my second child's due date. Harrumph.) And the cellulite around my thighs seems to have settled in for an extended stay.

 

Perhaps most noticeably, my skin is distinctly different now in a way I don't recall from four years ago. It feels lovely but looks slightly sad-- soft and a tad bit loose like an elephant made of velvet. I describe it in an affectionate way because I genuinely feel mostly affectionate toward these developments, which brings me to the question I mentioned at the beginning of this post: Is my body (and my attitude towards it) reflective of the position I have embraced in life or an inevitable product of aging? 

I identify at this point in my life primarily as a mother (a title that holds the distinction as the only one I've always known for 100% sure I wanted), and I suspect that I have both subconsciously and consciously tailored my appearance to fit that description. Of course I look more like a mom now with sensibly short, naturally colored hair than I did four years ago with highlighted long layers a la every  underwear model. Of course I am softer and looser now post-pregnancy when I allowed myself to be 5-10 pounds heavier pre-pregnancy because no one wants to snuggle a bony mommy. These things aren't accidents and to complain and delude myself into thinking I am not complicit in my transformation into a 30-year-old mom lady is patently ridiculous. 

I guess what I'm saying is dress for the job you want, and if you're really committed, get fat and saggy for it, too. The snuggle phase only lasts a few years, and I'll be damned if my babies don't have a comfy mommy...

What's that? Ten year high school reunion is in how long now?... Catch ya on the treadmill! ✌️

Sexy Fake Lady Cops Make Me Sad This Year(Halloween Edition)

Several months ago, I wrote a blog entry about pregnant body image, in which I discussed my fondness for my new, curvier figure. I figure now, with hot, young women running around everywhere in barely-there Halloween costumes, is as good a time as any to talk about the flip side of that issue.

I am finding myself to be much more jealous of all the girls in skanky Halloween garb this year than I would have ever expected. However, it is not a simple form of jealousy. It is not that I want to be out in the clubs with my midriff bared, ass cheeks making frequent appearances, drinking with strangers. That is something I haven't really embraced with gusto since 2006 or '07(see picture). I also don't think it has to do with the fact that my husband is spending his nights this Halloween weekend working at the Boot, which is arguably ground zero for way hot, mostly naked college chicks, although I don't think that is helping.

I think my feelings this weekend are stemming more from the fact that my body has completely robbed me of my ability to look sexy. I know that it is doing something amazing, and most of the time I love my big, round belly. I tolerate my gigantic thighs and giggling butt without more than a passing thought, most days. I have certainly not been consumed with worrying about regaining my figure or anything depressing like that. Overall, I think most people would say my disposition about all of pregnancy's physical effects has been overwhelmingly sunny.

But now there are these goddam women everywhere wearing practically nothing. And the fact is that my body in thigh highs and the miniest of "themed" mini dresses would, at the moment, inspire more laughs than swoons.

For me, sexuality and sexiness were things that came into play in various human interactions on a daily basis from the time I reached puberty. I suspect that this is true for most women my age. It is not something we consciously think about, but female sexuality is an extremly powerful thing. Just ask any man, anywhere, ever. So, the inabilty to be, or at least feel, "sexy" is an unfamiliar and frustrating experience, especially at 24 years old.

So, I suppose when it comes down to it, I am not truly "jealous" of all the scantily-clad women who are out celebrating tonight. They are probably going to be cold later on, and they will definitely have hangovers tomorrow. I am, however, envious of the way they clearly feel, like they can conquer any bar line, and therefore the world, with the sheer power of their young, trim bodies. I miss feeling that way, if I am being honest.

I would imagine that every woman who has ever been pregnant has felt this way from time to time. The fact is that a body that is almost done growing a baby sometimes feels like it is more for the baby than for its true owner. And that is ok. I love my son more than I can say. I like pushing back when he kicks my belly and feeling him respond. I like thinking about holding him in two months, hearing him say "mama" a few months later, and watching him take his first steps before we know it. All of these things are worth a few days of glaring at every "sexy traffic director" I see.

But don't expect me to stop glaring. It may be childish; it may be hypocritical, seeing as there isn't much I enjoy more than R-rated dress up. But it is what it is. And I am too tired from growing a CHILD here, people, to control every emotional impulse I have. My slutty Halloween days are almost certainly over, but that doesn't mean I won't be feeling that "conquer the world" sexiness soon. Because I am going to be sexy again before you know it.... Right?