This morning when I woke up, I felt yucky from the aftermath of our beach vacation, eating too much Mexican food and Reese’s peanut butter ice cream.
I got dressed and blow-dried my hair as usual, and when you walked in the bathroom you said, “You’re so beautiful. I love the way that shirt looks on your figure.”
And I was thinking, Oh wow, if you only knew how I felt. My belly is bulging out and my face is puffy from carb overload.
I half smiled when I should’ve responded in gratitude.
You had no idea how annoyed I felt, but you lifted me up. You praised me when I didn’t feel desirable and attractive.
Years ago, you held my hand through the ring of fire delivering four babies into this world, and the stretch marks, varicose veins, and weight gain it resulted in.
None of those changes to my body affected your love for me. Even when I compare myself to our wedding pictures, you don’t care about the difference. Even when I’d rather take selfies from the waist up, you’re not measuring.
You see my “kangaroo pouch” and say, “That’s where you carried all my babies.”
You love me when I don’t love the skin I’m in. You compliment my curves when I’m criticizing them. When I tell you I need to make better choices in eating and exercise, you cheer me on.
Truth is, I need to enjoy my body as you do. It’s perfectly imperfect the way it is. I want to better love it too. It’s all yours anyway.
Thank you for loving my baby body even when we don’t have babies anymore.
I love that you still delight in this body of mine that’s been forever changed by two handsome boys and two beautiful girls who call me mom, a lot.