The problem I have is that the body I owned, before I grew the children, was fabulous. Let me take a moment to tell you about it.
(This isn’t necessary for the purpose of this exercise but I shall go ahead anyway because I want to.)
I’d been a postie for some years which meant I walked several miles every day. I lifted heavy sacks of mail and I rode a bike, all this helped keep me trim and wonderfully healthy.
Sadly I had absolutely no idea just how fabulous my body was, so I would hide it behind some rather unfeminine outfits. My signature costume was combat trousers, the real army surplus kind, white t-shirts and walking boots. Looking back I should have been nude at all times. Hindsight, huh?
Now then let’s fast forward to today. Bits wobble, they wobble a lot and with very little encouragement. Bits wobble when I laugh, something I do many times a day. Bits wobble when I run, something I do only when absolutely necessary, when The Youngest lunges head first into danger for example, or when . . . . . .
No, that’s about it.
Then there’s the aching. Six months on form the birth of The Eldest the aching began. I felt as though I’d been run over and when I walked it was as if through water. Most odd.
It was pondered upon that the C-section, necessary if I ever wanted to meet my son, had been the trigger for whatever the heck was going on. A shock to the system apparently? One doctor decided I’d had a stroke which was nice. I hadn’t, which was nicer. Was the weirdness due to having had a baby or having had a baby at the ripe old age of 36? Or having had a baby through the sun roof at 36? Or just being 36? I’ll never know.
Anyhoo, I was so busy worrying about how I felt that I forgot to worry about how I looked. I didn’t care and it showed. The good news is that I’m getting there. I go to the hairdressers now, I hate it but I go - I am no longer grey. I buy clothes, nice clothes and occasionally I wear them. I try to be kind to myself, I am full of good intentions and the thoughts count apparently?
But what do I love about my post baby body?
Well, the new model is larger than is absolutely necessary, it hurts most days and misbehaves on others. It is, however, all roughly where it should be and in fairly good working order. But. The best bit about my post baby body is that it is post baby.
So what if it used to be wobble free? So what if it could run without wearing a bra? Am I sad about this? If I’m honest, yes. Was it worth it? Oh most definitely. This clever round wobble body of mine made me a mum. I am forever in its debt.
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