We have no full length mirrors in our house and I like it that way. It’s not that I live in denial so much, ok maybe a little, it’s that I am usually happy enough looking down at myself rather than at myself if that makes any sense?
Anyway, the other day I caught a glimpse of my naked body in its entirety. Full. Length.
It shocked me.
I know, I know, after 3 pregnancies I should be used to the way I fill out and soften, but it appears I am not.
My acceptance of the changes my body makes has increased, that’s for sure. My weight gain is no where near as rapid as it was during my first (I stacked on a marvelous 25 kilos with Gus and enjoyed every moment) and I relish in my large and proud bump.
But the vulnerable woman in me still shudders when I see the extra cellulite deposited over my thighs. The spider veins weaving their way across my legs. The gigantic melons now attached to my chest.
It’s like for a moment I am trapped in someone else’s body.
I moan that I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve lost my identity.
But then my husband so lovlingly reminds me “but you’re pregnant.”
And I snap out of it. Yes I am. And this is what I look like pregnant. It’s time to just deal with and embrace it.
Do you love or loathe your pregnancy body?