Tossing this out there.
Yes. I am in my undies. These cover just as much as a bikini, which I don’t own.
Nope. They don’t match. I’m not that fancy.
Yes. I have a pooch of fat that hangs from my tummy, over the front of my lady bits. Yes I try to keep it tucked into my underwear to avoid it being obvious.
Yep. My belly button is stretched down into a long slit. I have to literally peel and dig to find the very inside. For months I couldn’t tell if my last surgery incision healed because I couldn’t get a clear view even with mirrors positioned so I could see my own belly button.
Nope. I have no visible knees. Or ankles.
Yes. My elbow pit and arm pits are so big that they are giant rolls on my arms.
Yes. I’m fat. Obese. Overweight. This. Is. Me.
What you can’t see, is my heart. The heart that almost failed when I was 18. The heart that after I was in a pediatric ICU unit for days, fought for it’s right to bear and carry me through those days and beyond. A heart that while hospitalized, endured seeing my mom’s heartache while I was a city away from her, not being able to see my step dad because he had his own health problems, not hearing from my biological dad and wondered if he even cared I had almost died after knowing my grandma had told him what happened, my boyfriend broke up with me while I was in the hospital, 1 friend came to see me in the hospital. But my body was always there.
What you can’t see, are the stretch marks between my thighs, across my stomach and legs from yoyo dieting my whole adult life. From busting my ass and losing 80 lbs in 3 months. From gaining that weight back with pregancy, then losing half of it, regaining it and losing it repeatedly with 4 pregnancies. Through out all of the workouts and binge eating, my body was always there.
What you can’t see, is how every day from January 2012 until memorial weekend 2017, I was either pregnant or nursing a baby. Usually both. I nursed two babies until they were two years old. I suffered month after month with mastitis. I was on round after round of antibiotics. Bloody nipples from poor latching. I carried two babies in my womb until a week before their due date. I carried 4 babies in my body. I lost two of my babies before their time. My angel babies. I had 4 babies leave my body vaginally. All along, my body was always there.
What you cant see, are all of my scars. I’ve had surgery to remove my gal bladder, along with an unwanted removal of a mole I had since I was born. 3 scopes down my throat with multiple biopsies within my esophagus and stomach. I’ve had my esophagus internally stretched. I had a cyst cut out of my chest. I’ve had 4 surgeries to remove polyps from my uterus and cervix. I have had 1 colonoscopy and two surgeries to remove and ensure removal of a carcinoid tumor in my colon which if undetected would have resulted in a cancer with no cure. I have scars all over from skin and mole biopsies, stitches, etc… but, my body was always there for me.
Through all of the shit I’ve put my body through, I’m finally learning to love it. I am no longer ashamed of it. I want to treat it better. I want to honor it. I want to ensure it stays on this earth for a very long time.
I share this photo to hold myself accountable. I can and will do better.