Before I had my children I had the perfect body.
Also, before I had children, I was no stranger to laying on the floor in the bathroom, ears ringing, cold sweats. Low blood sugar. From starving myself. I couldn’t do much for too long, but god damn, I looked good doing it. That’s what mattered.
After I had children, my body changed. But so did everything else. I began to give a shit about myself. And I started to gain weight. It was uncomfortable, but deep down, it felt right and that feeling of what was right was new for me, reguarding my looks because even though I was so cute on the outside, I was writhing on the inside. Self loathing. I was never sure of myself. I was the most self conscious person in any room. So much so that it triggered extreme anxiety. I would pick at my face for hours in the mirror, removing every single piece of skin and hiding every blemish. Being so mean to myself. I was so uncertain of every decision I made and uncertain.
Now I can carry 50 pounds (of any combination of my kids) for 8 hours. Now I can do one handed hand stands. Now I can do a lot of things for a long time because I am nit concerened who is staring at me, I am confident with every step, with every decision. I am strong. Because I chose to be nice to myself. I chose to make little changes, to see the beauty in myself. To see me in the way my partner does, the way my kids do. Unconditional love. Because I deserve it. And I don’t have to work for it or look a certain way or be a certain way or do a certain thing. I am free. Because I am loved for my existence.