“Alas, a picture was taken. I scrolled through the 50 she took of us and I was not thrilled with what I was looking at. Why? Because of my stomach. The little house this baby grew in was the reason for my disgust. It took me 3 days to even look at those pictures again.”
‘I didn’t remember I had my shirt off. ‘Mama, can I take a picture of Bowie?’ I vaguely remember shifting him on my hip so she’d see him better.’: Mom felt ‘disgusted’ after postpartum photos, says it’s ‘normal to mourn your body’
‘I have stretch marks, saggy skin, a weird fat fold around my C-section scar. I don’t really love myself. This has to stop.’: Mom insists weight does not define us, cannot keep letting ‘my imperfections consume me’
“I can’t pass this on to my daughters. I can’t have them looking at their bodies in search of flaws. I don’t want them to put all of their worth in what they see in the mirror. I want them to know, what I still am trying to convince myself. We might have fat, but we are not fat. This is not WHO we are.”
‘I was teased that toothpaste had calories. I hated the whispers and stares. I thought it was cool to not get my period anymore. I’m ashamed of this.’: 43-year- old mom finally confident in body image after struggling with eating disorder most of life
“It intensified when I left my parents’ home and went to college. I drastically reduced my food intake. I hate thinking about the look of shock, disappointment, and concern on my mother’s face. She hadn’t seen me since Christmas, so when I came home for Spring Break, my mother was worried sick over my frail appearance. I felt guilty, but not guilty enough to change.”
‘If not your breasts, they’ll attempt to convince you your worth depends upon your thigh gap, complexion, weight.’ Mom shuts down 8-year-old daughter thinking her body is ‘flawed’
“My darling girl, there is something I must get off my chest before you grow into yours. As you get older, society, men, even some women, will try to convince you that your breasts — their size, shape, level of ‘perky’ — are what define you as a woman. Hear me clearly when I firmly inform you, they are wrong.”
‘Are you going to lose weight for the wedding?’ I felt judged for my shape, ashamed and humiliated. ‘Yes, I will be losing weight.’ Then came the moment where I found the dress.’
“I stood there semi naked, holding my breath. I stepped into the wedding dress. My consultant whipped the curtain open and my mom gasped. All I could think was, ‘Here comes my further humiliation.'”
‘185. That’s my number. It is what pops up on the scale when I decide it’s time to torture myself. I stress-ate after being diagnosed with breast cancer.’
“Or is it 390? Maybe that’s my number. The size implant I want when they reconstruct my breasts so I can feel more human again. I squeezed every weird gelatin blob in my plastic surgeon’s office before settling on one. ‘I dunno, this one?’”
‘This is me in a dress I have NO business wearing.’
“I don’t want you to say, ‘OMG, YOU LOOK GREAT!’ I don’t want you to say, ‘GOOD FOR YOU!’ I want you to know why I’m wearing a dress I have no business wearing.”
‘Not all of us have washboard stomachs in bikinis when their baby is 1-year-old. Some of us still look a pregnant, some of us have muscle separation that won’t heal without surgery. AND THAT IS OK!’
“When I look at my children, I feel invincible. I grew them, I birthed them, and I have the scars to prove it. Talk to yourself as if you’re the most important person in the world, because to little humans, you are.”
‘I tried to put my pre-baby jeans on, and they didn’t fit. ‘You did good, babe, ’I looked at myself in the mirror and said, instead of feeling like crap.’
“I didn’t just wake up one day with my body not fitting into jeans. I didn’t just wake up with muscle separation, a saggy belly, stretch marks or a bit of extra weight. I had a freaking baby. I grew a baby. I made it in my body. I made a foot in there, an eyeball, I made another heartbeat.”
‘I got implants after having a baby. I truly thought, ‘No big deal.’ I started having pain, EVERYWHERE. I pulled in to a gas station and called my husband. ‘SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME.’
“Then one day I met someone. I started reading the posts and asking questions. I found woman after woman with stories that mirrored mine. They were ME! I was THEM! Some were so sick they were on the verge of death, LITERALLY. This is when everything changed. Suddenly, I knew I needed to get them out of me ASAP.”
