I figured I would spend one of the last days of hot summer by taking the girls to the pool, and set to it pretty quickly this morning gathering swimsuits, dry clothes to change into, and such because that’s what an outing with kids entails. Lots of preparation.
After getting together stuff for everyone else I saw to myself, and opened up a deep drawer filled with swimsuits for me. Seeing that I’m a secret clothes hoarder, and that I never get rid of anything, the drawer is packed with suits from the past fifteen years. Yes, fifteen. Towards the top are the most recently worn, but if you desire to dig a little deeper you will even find a black, sequined string bikini. Lord have mercy, I should just let that go.
Anyway, as I sifted through the garments I desired something different, and I remembered a plain, one-piece Speedo suit in black that I had purchased while in boot camp so many years ago. I pulled it out and looked at the tag. Size 6 it read, and I thought, well that shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I was back in a size 6 again. So I slipped the suit on swiftly, and turned towards the mirror to assess the situation.
Staring back at me was a twisted version of Golden Girls meets Baywatch. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it was, err, different than I remembered to say the least. The tight, spandex like fabric cut into my thighs, causing the excess to overlap the edges. The constricting top area just mashed my generous bosom flat where I was sure it had lifted and accentuated before. Sigh.
But alas, instead of feeling sad I simply chuckled to myself as I stripped off the suit from my younger years and pushed it back to the bottom with its string bikini friend. The size on the label didn’t matter anymore than the numbers on the scale. The truth was my body had changed, and it was time to say farewell to the body of my youth.
Trying on shirts from the back recesses of my closet had proven it was true, and as I looked at my reflection I wasn’t blind to the stretch marks on my chest or the extra deposit of fluff on my tummy that just wouldn’t go away after the last baby was born. Heck, I could still even see a faint brown line running from my sternum to my pubic bone, and like a badge of courage it reminded me of what my body had been through in the past five years or so.
I say courage because that’s what it was for me, the decision to become a mother. I made the conscious decision to stop letting my actions simply be about me, and cease all selfishness or personal gain. I changed my life, and made things about her. That doesn’t mean I gave up my identity or that I’m placing my kid on a pedestal. It just means that when I realized she was growing inside me I started caring about more than myself. Suddenly my life was much more.
In this decision to stop living simply for me, to change my perspective to one of giving, I let go of things that used to matter oh so much. I watched as the scale numbers went up, up, and away. And even though I knew the excessive eating was due to the cigarettes I had thrown away, I smiled. I smiled even as my hips spread and my face became fuller.
I watched as my body became one I couldn’t even recognize. My feet got bigger, and they stayed that way. My breasts filled beyond capacity and the skin stretched, and stretched, and stretched. But I nurtured my babies with them, and the deep craters left behind after they shriveled up sadly just didn’t seem to matter like I thought it would.
It’s good to desire to be healthy, and to eat in a manner that makes you feel good about yourself, but I have discovered that no amount of dieting will bring my body back to its pre-pregnancy form, and I’m okay with that. I’m happy with my body, but it’s not what it used to be. Even if I could find the time, or the motivation to do sit-ups every day, gravity would still decide to deposit things in places they never resided before. And that’s fine too.
Farewell, by definition, is the fond, well wishes to someone as they go on their way, and so it is with the young girl in her twenties who wore that black speedo like a boss. I will remember her well, but I know she had to move on, she had to leave to make room for bigger and better things.
Perhaps my hips and tummy are larger to make room for the expansion of the organ in my chest, for with each life I have birthed my heart has doubled in size, so it only seems my butt would follow suit. So even though my once firm derrière hangs a bit more south, I have decided it’s the sheer weight of the excessive love in my life that caused its shift. And that’s fine too.
Motherhood changes your life in more ways than one, and it’s not simply the scars left behind from carrying a baby for nine months that I speak of here. Even an adoptive mother will see the physical changes to her body once she becomes a mom. There’s little time left to plan meals or exercise , and I don’t think any woman is left with a choice when McDonald’s chicken nuggets are left behind. Waste not, want not, you know? And after years of eating your little one’s discards for lunch, you are left with a softer lap for bedtime stories to be read upon. And that’s okay too.
Perhaps it’s time to clean out the drawers, go through my closet, and bid ado to my former wardrobe, a clothing collection held before a time of rubbing thighs, arm flaps, and belly pooches. I don’t mind. Everything changes, and if enjoying this full life of little people I have now means I gotta say goodbye to old scraps of fabric, then so be it. Farewell body of my youth; I wish you well. Parting is such sweet sorrow, but that’s okay too. I’ll focus on the sweet.
Tara Dyson says
Thank you. I really needed that. Having just given birth to my second baby in March and turning 31 just days before, I am now left in that “oh my gosh, my ass looks like a deflated golf ball” phase of life. It’s mentally difficult to accept that. You’ve put it all- the sagging boobs, flabby tummy, sharpei-esk skin- in perspective.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you so much. Glad you enjoyed. I think we’re all probably a bit too hard on ourselves and expect more than our bodies can deliver. Thanks again.
Denise says
Brie.. You are such a wonderful writer who is able to relate to her readers. Thank you for sharing.. It really helps to read this in the light you place on it! I still have suits from my honeymoon 24 years ago!!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you so much! I appreciate your comment.