You catch a glimpse of her, your gaze traveling over her slim figure, perfectly shaped by society’s standards. You notice the faint smirk on your face, a mix of disdain and maybe a hint of envy, but as soon as your eyes meet hers, you quickly look away.
To you, she’s just “one of those fit moms,” the type that get mocked on social media. The kind mentioned in blog posts filled with bitterness, portrayed as an exception, a target for others to feel more “normal” about their own struggles. But there’s so much more beneath the surface.
You see her toned muscles and graceful frame as she bends down to lift her son with ease. What you don’t see is the never-ending mental tally she keeps: counting calories, pushups, and even the tiny cookie crumbs she allows herself to indulge in from her kid’s plate. She’s counting everything but the things that truly matter.
You notice her slim waist and slightly visible hip bones, but you’re blind to the knots of anxiety in her stomach, filled not with food but self-doubt. You don’t see her checking her reflection, pinching at imaginary love handles that are as absent as the kindness she gives herself.
You admire her athletic physique, the sun-kissed skin and high cheekbones. Yet you don’t hear the inner critic telling her she’s not good enough, that she can’t outrun her insecurities. You miss the moment of relief that comes after a long run, when the only sensations are the burn in her lungs and the ache in her legs.
You see a mom who seems to have shed the baby weight in an instant, looking like she’s never carried extra pounds. What you don’t recognize is the heartache from years of fertility struggles, the emotional rollercoaster of wanting children and wrestling with a body she couldn’t love.
To you, she’s the epitome of a “fit mama,” but you don’t know she questions her worth as a mother every single day. You see someone who appears to have it all together, but not the anxiety that grips her if she oversleeps and misses her morning workout. You notice her c-section scar, but you’re oblivious to the emotional scars from past battles with an eating disorder that still haunt her.
You watch her play with her kids, joyfully chasing them around the playground, yet her mind wanders to dark places, leaving her feeling guilty for not fully being present. You think she’s the lucky one who doesn’t fret about swimsuit season, while she privately tears through countless bathing suits, convinced each one highlights her flaws.
You see a size zero, but she feels as if she’s crumbling inside. You see a head-turner, while she wishes she could blend into the background. You see her body, but do you really see her?
This is a reminder that not everything is as it seems. If you want to dive deeper into topics like home insemination, check out this insightful post from one of our other blogs. Additionally, for more information on boosting fertility, visit this resourceful site. And for those exploring pregnancy options, this link offers excellent support for individuals considering IVF.
In summary, the “fit mom” you see is often battling unseen struggles, juggling expectations and insecurities that you may overlook. Let’s remember to approach each other with empathy and understanding.