More Than My Baby Body

Note: I am in no way trying to body-shame ANYONE in this blog. I know that everyone looks and is shaped differently, and I am okay with that. I am simply stating my personal opinion towards MYSELF and my body. If that offends you, well, then you can just go on being offended. 

"I love my body because it made beautiful children."

I bought myself a gym membership this week. I've been complaining and bitching about my body for months now.
"I used to be so thin."
"I wish I looked like I did before I had Brinlee."
Blah, blah, blah. So finally, Friday night rolls around and I'm fucking exhausted. I'd been up since four in the morning and I just want to take a nap. I get home, plop down on my bed, and that's when it started. My baby belly rolls over the edge of my pants, taunting me. "I'M NEVER GOING AWAY!"

I laid on my bed, and I couldn't even focus on taking a nap. All I could think about was what I used to be. I thought about short shorts and bikinis, and how I can't wear those things anymore. I laid there and thought and thought and thought, and then I did. I pushed myself up from the bed.

"Fuck it. I'm going to the gym."

So I packed Brinlee up, and went and bought my membership. I didn't actually go on Friday because I had no exercise clothes, but it was enough to get me started. (I'm not going to spend $30/month and not use it). When I left, I went and got my clothes and my shoes, and I called my friend and we scheduled gym time for the next morning. (My gym has childcare, which is awesome because I can go whenever I want and not have to worry about Brinlee.)

Fast forward to the next morning. I'm walking into the gym with Rachel and I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just following her around like a puppy, playing around on these damn machines trying to figure out how the hell they work. Of course, Rachel isn't new to this, so she's running circles around me as I'm dying and my muscles are crawling out of my skin. I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't stop sweating, but I swear that I will be more than my baby body.

And that's just it. I will be more than my baby body.

Ever since I had Brinlee, people tell me how great I look. Yeah, I've lost the baby weight. Yeah, I'm back down to my pre-baby weight. My shape has completely shifted though. Instead of being pretty evenly covered in fat, it now sits on my stomach. Instead of having a flat stomach and bigger boobs, I have small boobs and a muffin-top from hell. Yeah, I'm beautiful. Yeah, I look okay for having had a baby six months ago. But just because I had a baby, doesn't mean I have to be accepting of these changes. And was I really that happy with my body before I had Brinlee?

So many times, I hear people talking about body acceptance, and just knowing that you're beautiful no matter what. You read articles that tell you that you need to love your body, because it brought a beautiful baby into the world. To a point, I think these articles are correct. There are things that will remain after having a baby (I'm talking to you, stretch marks) and you can't change that. So yes, you should accept those things. I'm not saying you have to like them, just accept that those are part of your body, no matter what. But being fat, or overweight, or weirdly shaped, those are things that you can change. Those are the things that are not, in my opinion, 'acceptable' changes. Those are the things that I will change.

I look in the mirror everyday after I get dressed and rearrange my clothes to hide my least favorite things. My pants are pulled high to cover my love handles. My shirts are loose-fitting and flowing, to mask the bubble of a belly that still remains. I stand up straight and suck it in, and if I'm wearing a dress, I put on spandex to hide my shape. Why am I doing this? Why am I spending so much time hiding these things instead of actually getting off my ass and changing them?

I'm not going to accept something that I can change, simply because I had a baby. I don't want to look good for having had a baby- I want to look like I didn't have a baby. I want to be happier with myself than I've ever been. If that means going to the gym, and working out so hard that my legs are giving out and I can barely breathe, then fine. If it means skipping my nap and turning away from the three boxes of girl scout cookies sitting on my night stand (true story), then fine. I will work my ass off (literally) to change the things that can be changed. I will not accept that I am bigger than I once was simply because an article on Facebook told me that I need to. I will not make excuses for my laziness because I had a child.

I will be more than my baby body.