An Open Letter to My Uninvited Post-Pregnancy Belly Flap

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Dear Unwelcome Abdominal Flap,

I have some words for you, and they aren’t pretty. Honestly, I’m not sure if you’re a “flap,” a “shelf,” or if you have some fancy medical name, but one thing is clear: I really don’t like you. In fact, “dislike” doesn’t even begin to cover it—I’d go so far as to call you a real nuisance. At least my other body parts had the courtesy to stick around without making a scene.

I vividly remember the day we first met, right after my C-section. My hands tentatively explored the new landscape of my stomach, and I thought, “Oh, that’s just some swelling.” Little did I know, your stay would be much longer than anticipated. My little one isn’t so little anymore, and yet you’re still here, like an unwelcome guest who just won’t leave.

I’ve tried to accept your presence, but every time I have to adjust you into my underwear or manage you like a rogue third breast, I’m reminded of how much I’d like you to vanish. It doesn’t matter how many positive body image articles I read. The only uplifting I want is through some surgical intervention on this unfortunate pouch of skin that seems to have taken up permanent residence.

Sure, I wasn’t a swimsuit model before you showed up, but my midsection didn’t need your extra flair of chaos. Stretch marks can be concealed, but you? Oh no, you insist on being front and center. When I put on my favorite yoga pants, it’s like I’m strutting around with a neon sign pointing directly at you. I tug at my shirt, hoping to hide the awkward bulge while worrying about what others might think. “Was that a camel toe?” I can just hear the whispers.

And to add insult to injury, you’ve settled in a spot that makes sucking you in impossible. This has led me to spend money I don’t have on shapewear that’s as uncomfortable as it is unflattering. Even when I think I’ve got you concealed, there you are, lurking just under the surface, ready to roll back out.

Let me tell you, it’s not a pleasant experience trying to shave around you. It feels almost pointless, like polishing a rock. And let’s not forget how numb you often feel, which only adds to the weirdness. At least it saves me from the pain of accidentally zipping you up in my jeans!

Honestly, I’m just over you. No one warned me about your surprise appearance, and you certainly weren’t invited to this party. I can’t seem to exercise you away, and guilt-tripping hasn’t worked either. For now, I guess I’ll keep hunting for longer shirts and try to come to terms with your existence. But rest assured, if I ever hit the jackpot, the first stop will be the plastic surgeon’s office.

So, consider yourself warned—I’m buying a lottery ticket or ten!

With all the sarcasm I can muster,
Me

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Summary

This humorous letter addresses the struggles of dealing with a post-pregnancy belly flap, expressing frustration and the desire for acceptance while maintaining a light tone. The author reflects on the challenges of body image after childbirth and hints at the possibility of surgical options if circumstances allow.