picture by anastasia chomlackhttp://www.anastasiachomlack.ca/
“Let me put my hand on your belly!”
“Umm….please don’t.”
I don’t know what it is. I hate my belly. Ella loves my belly.
I have two children. It is not the belly it once was. Yes, all you motivational speakers out there, I know it should be a point of pride. It is. I am so proud and amazed at what my pregnant body can do. While pregnant I had people ask me if I was pregnant with “Twins? Triplets? Due any day?”
“No, just one baby this time, and not due for another 4 months, I’m actually right on track, I have a small frame, I’m all belly, if this baby was on you it would look a lot smaller, according to my Dr I am perfect, do you have children, ARE YOU A DR???”
In reality though, I grow a pretty big belly when I am pregnant and I love it. What I don’t love is the aftermath. The whole deflated balloon, I’m only 28 {24 at heart} and will never wear a bikini again syndrome thing I’ve got going on.
Ella apparently feels differently. She loves my belly….LOVES my belly. Wants to cuddle it, rub it, kiss it, talk to it, and look at it, in private and in public. I don’t know why. Maybe she developed this love when she knew I was pregnant with Isaac, I can’t remember, or maybe she recognizes it as her home planet, I am not sure. Point is, she freaking loves to touch it and I can’t even stand to remember that this stretched out ponch is part of my body. I know, rant much? Love yourself; looks don’t matter, blah blah blah.
Ok…I’m back. You wouldn’t know I’d left, but I did and now my opinion has changed too.
Ella called me into her room for a picnic of chocolate cake and soup. She had it all laid out, forks, and spoons, and juice {plastic bowling pins} and plates and everything. We wore bibs. It was awesome. We dined with Sunshine Bear, my favourite ever gift from my maternal Grandfather, who died when I was 6. It was perfect. I can’t believe that this little girl came from my belly.
I LOVE my belly. I am so proud of what it can do. I have successfully created, grown and delivered two healthy beautiful children. I have delivered “naturally” and via c-section. I am a freaking superstar.
Maybe this is the summer I will wear a bikini proudly, and let it all sag out. I will make those sour faced 108 pound Lululemon Blondies cringe, with their “OMG!s” and I will strut my stuff proudly…. People will flock to me and say “What a gorgeous belly! Are you a model? You must be so proud!” I will be asked to pose for Vanity Fair and host my own talk show….
Ok. Probably not. But I might wear a shorter than normal tankini….and I will smile, and love my body, as long as it is partially hidden, and seriously, I can not even wait to have another baby.
PS This is the conversation Ella and I just had....
“Why do you like my belly?”
“Because I love it.”
”Why do you love it?”
“Because I want it.”
”Why do you want it?”
“Because I have to want it and love it.
“Why do you have to want it and love it”
“Because I want to put it in the oven.
Ok. So that should clear things up…
*Liz
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