In my earlier years, particularly during my 20s, I was never one to dedicate countless hours at the gym, scrutinizing my physique for perceived flaws. Yes, I had my share of imperfections—a softer belly, fuller thighs, and arms that lacked definition. My breasts have always had their own unique shape, and I would never have been categorized as the epitome of fitness or beauty.
Growing up alongside three brothers, I was fortunate to avoid the incessant yearning for conventional beauty standards. Instead, I learned to appreciate the value of being average. Because my body, in all its ordinary glory, achieved what I needed it to do. It powered me through competitive tennis, sustained me while completing my thesis at the last minute, and helped me move into my first New York City apartment in the wee hours. Its resilience has seen me through illnesses, surgeries, and even cancer. By choosing not to dwell on its aesthetic flaws, I found joy in its functionality.
I never invested significant time in my appearance; even on my wedding day, I spent less than two hours preparing. My wedding dress, a simple choice that cost under $100, hung from my broad shoulders. Instead of hiring a professional photographer, I enlisted a co-worker known for capturing life in a more candid, lively manner. Looking back at those photos, I see the unflattering spread of my arms, but I also see moments of pure joy, like when my brothers lifted my laughing husband into the air. Rather than stressing over presenting my average body perfectly, I immersed myself in the celebration.
When I became pregnant, the warnings about my body’s impending decline were abundant. “Moisturize to prevent stretch marks. Avoid excessive weight gain or you’ll struggle to lose it. Enjoy your thick hair and firm breasts while you can.” Now, after two C-sections, 70 pounds gained during pregnancy, and 35 months of breastfeeding, I find little has altered. I still reach for eyeliner and powder, but my beauty routine is minimal at best. My belly remains unchanged, my arms still jiggle, and my thighs stay thick. The most striking feature these days is the occasional forehead thump onto the table when my little one refuses to eat his once-desired chicken nuggets.
Yet, my body continues to serve its purpose. While I may not be silent, I can carry a 35-pound child on one hip and a 25-pound child on the other, all while managing a diaper bag filled with essentials. I can navigate uphill with a balance bike and a toddler, pulling a wagon loaded with groceries. I can leg-press that 35-pound child while he plays with our cat.
So what if my belly isn’t flat? It’s a blessing to feel no loss over the body I had before motherhood. I don’t miss the frequent showers or the elaborate makeup routines. As I see it, my body remains intact—just transformed.
To any woman pondering motherhood, I urge you to embrace your average self. If your hair wasn’t lustrous before pregnancy, it likely won’t be after. If you never had gravity-defying breasts, don’t expect a miraculous change post-baby. Accept these changes and take pride in the remarkable capabilities of your body. Because soon, you’ll be a mother, and that’s anything but average.
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Summary
This reflection on body image and motherhood emphasizes the importance of appreciating one’s body for its functionality rather than its aesthetics. It encourages women to embrace their average attributes and recognize the strength their bodies possess, especially during the transformative journey of motherhood.
Keyphrase: Embracing body positivity in motherhood
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