I am one hot mama.


I wish I looked in the mirror and felt that way!

Honestly, though, I have discovered that I am learning to be happy with my body.  I’ve never been smaller than a size 10, and that’s while playing softball and cheerleading. My entire life I’ve moaned and begrudged the fact that I wasn’t “tiny.”  I’ve only wanted to look beautiful and my body continually tried to thwart my desires.  My body became a war zone, one in which I threw every exercise, diet, and diet pill at it.  I’ve only really lost weight twice – “too busy to eat” in college and the South Beach Diet right after I got married (which I really still like).  Even then, I only got to a size 10 — and you could feel my hip bones.

Why was I so obsessed?  Let’s see… I was a cheerleader as a teenager (a weight obsessed sport).  I have a grandmother who called me fat repeatedly.  I have a mother who is a former anorexic/bulimic who is still unnaturally focused on weight (I’ve been bigger than her since I was 14).

So… my obsession wasn’t all that unnatural to come by.

When I became pregnant, I suddenly had to stop doing things that I used to do to be thin.  I couldn’t indulge in as much caffeine as I could ingest.  I stopped using artificial sweeteners.  I started enjoying food rather than hating it and then craving it.  I was still 30 lbs overweight but there was nothing I could do.

I gained weight.  I drank large volumes of milk.  I got stretch marks.  Scars.  Wobbly bits all over my body.

Since I’ve had the baby, I’ve lost all that I’ve gained during pregnancy and then some. Not much, but some.  Still, my body has sustained the damage.  A C-Section scar.  The Marks.  A jelly belly (and not the delicious kind). Clothes fit funny. For the first time in my life… I don’t mind. Much.

My body has been used for a purpose so much greater than looking good and gaining attention. I have a beautiful and healthy little girl.  My body has held and nourished life.  I’m proud of my body!

I’m now a 14/16, and while I would like to be less, I don’t find it imperative to be a certain size.  My husband loves me.  My daughter loves me.  I can move and dance and have fun.  Maybe my body isn’t attractive to other people — but it’s my body.  It’s done a darn good job for me so far.

I’m coming to the conclusion that I am one hot mama. You may not love me, but I do. I’m at least trying to.


3 responses to this post.

  1. Good article. learning to be comfortable with yourself isn’t easy but is very important.


  2. In college, I was always vaguely jealous of you because you always looked great. And I’m sure you had like ZERO time to take care of yourself with all your RA duties. You are a hot mama, April, don’t let anyone tell you differently.

    (Looking forward to being able to write a similar post of my own soon!)

    (This is Jamie, in case I haven’t commented with this account yet.


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