The changes in your body after having a child can be hard to get used to and you can find yourself becoming over critical and under confident. Indeed standing in front of the mirror and examining my once firm stomach, now a mass of rippled scars, can put me in something of a bad mood.
The way I deal with my body hang ups is to let Miss Rose loose with them. She LOVES my jelly.
When I’m wearing loose fitting trousers, such as the pyjama bottoms I’ve invariably stolen from my husband’s shelf, Miss Rose likes to pull them down. I might be washing dishes or buttering toast and she screams with excitement, yanks them down to my ankles, then proceeds to repeatedly slap me on the thighs so they jiggle. The eruption of hysterical squeaks and giggles suggests the sight is somewhat pleasing.
On occasion, if she’s feeling really tired or poorly, she will sit still (!!!) on my lap and have a cuddle whilst we watch some TV together. This is when she looses a hand. She likes to lift my too so my squashy belly is exposed, she then digs her hand seep into the folds of my skin so it becomes absorbed. Then, with her eyes still firmly attached to Mr Bloom (and let’s be honest, who can blame her) she squishes. Gentle finger movements just squishing my flab rather like one might use a stress all.
During Nudey-Rudey time, our post-dinner pre-bath wind down in her room, she is very fond of raspberries. I blow them on her legs and tummy and neck and she giggles in delight, she then buries her face deep into my belly and blows raspberries so loud, so wet sounding, so cacophonous that on more than one occasion I’ve checked her nappy. After the raspberry blowing she will kiss my tummy with big “mwah” kisses a few times, then rest her head against it like the soft, warm, jelly like pillow it is and say “ahhhhhhhhh”. That’s quite adorable, but then she starts to kneed it like Paul Hollywood about to make a social loaf. Less adorable.
Miss Rose has always loved boobs. Indeed just today whilst perched on my hip as I chatted to Helen, Miss Rose’s favourite member of staff at the gym, she casually leaned over and grabbed her right breast. Prior to pregnancy I had pretty good boobs, if I do say so myself, but now gravity has taken them under her heavy wing and dragged them towards my belly button. The once smooth skin now looks stretched and thin. The plump round shape is now a flat oval. Does Miss Rose care? Does she heck. For the ten months she breast fed my boobs were her paradise. After I stopped feeding I expected her to lose interest. Whilst she no longer attempts to latch on anymore she is still fascinated. In the bath this evening, as I lay back attempting to relax in the bubbles, she kept dredging my boob out from my armpit by the nipple. This hurt. She did not care.
So yes my thighs jiggle, but Miss Rose delights in making them. My belly is a squashy doughy blob, but Miss Rose finds it comforting and soft. My boobs are droopy but they fed her and now they amuse her. How could I possibly resent my body for looking like this when looking like this is precisely what gives my daughter so much joy?
Mummies, your bodies rock. Just ask your babies!
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Thanks as always for reading, and I’ll speak to you soon I hope!