Body image. Something that’s been an issue since my adolescence. “You’re too big-boned”, “we can get your nose fixed”, “you can’t wear that for your body type”. Then as a married adult, I heard things like: “if you ever get fat, I’ll divorce you,” and when I was considering a breast augmentation he said ”the bigger the better, DD baby”... all of this has fed into whom I’ve become today. I’ve had anything but a healthy relationship with food. Forgetting to eat is something I’ve mastered.
Being pregnant and birthing 9 kids than trying to slim down at a record pace so my spouse would find me attractive is also something I‘ve mastered. Looking at my body now I‘m still trying to be okay with the fact that I have next to no boobs, soft thighs, and the famous baby “pooch,“ no matter how much exercise I do. Then turning around and try to be comfortable with the comments ”you’ve had 9 kids- like actually birthed them?!” “Where, how?” has been my new normal. People look at me like something is missing. What am I supposed to look like I wonder? I’m I supposed to be overweight? Have huge boobs? Saggy skin? Instead, I’m small. Skinny. Boobless. Not curvy. I’m left standing there after their comments wondering what I did wrong. Feeling incomplete because apparently, I‘m not fitting their ideal image of a mom of 9. I’m fighting to be comfortable in my own skin. To appreciate my body, to be okay with who I am. To not feel self-conscious, or insecure. To look in the mirror and think to myself “I am beautiful just the way I am” and to have a good body image, so I can set a good example to my four daughters. So I can show my five sons that moms come in all sizes and shapes and that’s okay. They’re all beautiful. They’re all strong. They’re all deserving to know and to embrace their self-worth. It’s a battle. It’s a battle worth fighting.
