Body Positivity

I don’t have a fun picture to post of my mom bod and this will not be an analytical piece like I said I would like to make in my last post.

This is my first post of 2019 because it’s something that all women deal with due to our fluctuating curves. Mine just happen to be on the downturn. They’re gone! They disappeared, I’m as a thin as a rail and it’s a little depressing whenever I think of it. So, I’m going to get it off my chest, but not too much because I need all the chest that is left. *sigh*

I chose this picture because I  was about  15 lbs heavier than I am now with thighs and my pre-mom boobs. I do currently have my head screwed on to eat more calories more frequently, but I’ve always been fascinated by practice and theory and there is a large difference between the two even in this circumstance.

During the holidays, I saw my son’s father. He commented that I looked skinny and other various comments that I could have done without. It took me back to a time when Buddha was 4 weeks old I was fully into baby blues and he was talking mess to me for three HOURS about how unattractive I was, how I was worthless, how so many h** keep hitting him up since we had our baby, how I can’t do this & that, while the Astros were in the last leg of the World Series I was nursing and he’d occasionally spit on me or lick me, yuck. So, I literally cried. Like sobbing because not only can I not provide a father to my son,  I’m not even attractive to the thing that impregnated me who has the standards of a limbo stick made for ants. aint that bout a whole b****. So anyways, I cried about being too skinny as soon as he left. then I cried because my boobs were 2 cups smaller after having my son, wern’t they supposed to get bigger? then I cried about the next guy I get will never even know I had boobs, so I mourned this body that I’ll never have again because I can’t just plant boobs. then I cried because I still love my son’s dad because I’m obsessed with him. then I cried, then my son woke up and placed his tiny head on my shoulder and placed his tiny human hands on my chest.

and a wave of comfort washed over me. and everything was ok because he loves me as I am.

and I realized, I breastfed for a whole year! & I wouldn’t trade any amount of titty for his little body. I wouldn’t trade two cup sizes for him to be 10lbs smaller or whatever would have been the case if I had not breast fed. I’m so glad and proud that I stuck to it for my goal of a year and I was able to feed my son through my body. It WAS NOT EASY!

I also realized why in the world would I want to be with someone that degrades me and doesn’t value me? Why do I care if my next partner or future husband hadn’t seen a me that isn’t even me anymore? Why would I want someone to want me to be someone I’m not? I don’t! I need people around me that like me for me in order to remain sane.

If I want to be a flat chested greasy b****, shoot, I might be it one day or the next, but it’s not forever yall LET ME LIVE. We let society tell us what we should look like and how we need to maintain ourselves. When I was 12, in the pursuit of thickness (my pre-pubescent pursuit of happiness), I ate so much fast food that I got high cholesterol like I was about to have to pop pills for it. All that is to say, we suffer or go through so much to attain what we idealize. We’re inundated with images of women with hourglass figures, perfect titties perfect asses and a waist the size of a green bean when MOST these celebrities bought their body AND face. I recently got an IG follower that gives filler injections, I looked, out of curiosity. She could sculpt your jawline (didn’t know that was a thing), fill your lips, fill your wrinkles, fill your hollow under eye, pffffft what?!

I might as well love what I have because there are so many unhappy people poking prodding and slicing themselves open that never learned to! Love yourself because you can’t love anyone else, without.

Do you have self affirmations or strategies against body shaming behaviors? If so, please share them with me.


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