It's that time of year again. The time when you and I argue about what looks good and what kind of bathing suit we should put on.
You want the bikini, whereas I sometimes find myself wanting to wear a hazmat suit. You want the freedom to put on whatever you want and flaunt it, and I want to avoid the many eyes directed at my cellulite and those so-called love-handles that I do not love.
You are okay with what you look like. You've endured so much self-destructed behaviours and still came out looking younger than your forty years. For the love of all things sacred, you developed a human being inside your body; a human being that stayed an extra ten days and stretched your body out like silly-putty.
And despite the shelf that your emergency c-section gave you - the shelf that sits under your soft less-than-toned belly - you still have this annoying don't-give-a-shit attitude.
Mom-Bod, I want to love you, I do. In fact, I envy you and your ability to accept yourself. I crave your mind set and appreciate your help in keeping my mind away from those pesky negative thoughts.
I mean, who cares what I'm wearing? Who cares if there's a bit extra skin and flab? I'm happily married to a man who loves every inch of this body.
So why can't I?
So let's compromise. My head will be a lot more at ease with the high-waisted bottoms of the bikini you very much want to wear. I'll pick bright colours instead of dark ones, and I'll wear the suit in public. I'll do my best to ignore the rolls when I sit down and I'll try my hardest to enjoy just being.
Mom-Bod, thank you for always trying to keep my head above water and reminding me that I am a human being who - like all other human beings - is not perfect. But my imperfections create who I am and this body I reside in, is just that. A body.
I promise to continue to try to meet your expectations because they are much more realistic and relaxing than my own. I'll keep the fight going if you continue to believe in me.
Originally written on Antsy Butterfly - Facebook