In middle school, while enjoying ice cream with my best friend, she playfully placed her hand on my lower belly and exclaimed, “I absolutely love this!” In that moment, I felt no embarrassment; she was my confidante. We had shared laughs while trying on clothes in department store fitting rooms, and she had seen me in every type of swimsuit, each time attempting to conceal my belly pooch without success. I wished I could love my body the way she loved hers, especially since her stomach was flat as a board.
From a young age, I had a bit of a belly. Even as a lanky child, there was always a slight curve beneath my belly button. Once I hit puberty, I quickly discovered that while I could indulge in all the treats I desired, they would settle right on my midsection and hips instead of my thighs and backside. I had a mix of hard and soft edges, and back then, I often longed for a different physique—one without my belly.
Throughout high school, I typically wore a size 8, belly included. I briefly entertained the notion that I would be happier if I were model-thin and restricted my calories to an absurd 1,200 a day. I lost around 20 pounds, yet my belly remained, a constant reminder that it was simply part of me. I could deny myself, but the pooch was here to stay. Eventually, I gave up the self-imposed restrictions, yet I still yearned for flat abs.
Now in my 40s and after giving birth to three wonderful children, I have come to embrace my belly. It’s not going anywhere. I run 40 miles a week, not just to stay fit but to challenge myself as I train for half marathons, and I feel that belly with every stride. It’s normal, and so am I. That little pooch is still a part of me.
We often forget that “normal” encompasses a wide spectrum, particularly regarding our bodies. After having kids, I went up a few sizes, and that was perfectly normal. My friend Lisa, who also had three children, felt disheartened when her size increased from 2 to 8—but that was normal too. Another mom I know loves her nachos and margaritas and walks for mental clarity; she’s a size 12 and radiates confidence—totally normal. My favorite model, Sarah, proudly showcases her curves, proving she’s normal too. Then there’s my sister-in-law, who competes in races, has minimal body fat, and rock-hard abs—she’s normal as well.
We’re all normal. We all desire to look and feel our best, and we grapple with the genetic cards we’ve been dealt. It’s easier to admire others’ beauty than to appreciate our own, and we often criticize ourselves in ways we would never dream of doing to others.
Our bellies deserve kindness—they are sensitive and protective, housing the delicious meals we enjoy and nurturing life. They are the centers of our bodies and warrant love, regardless of their appearance.
There’s no such thing as a perfect body—except for the one we inhabit at this moment. Whether you have a thigh gap or a potbelly, or even abs of steel, every body is perfect in its own right. So, treat yourself with the same compassion you would offer to a friend. You deserve it.
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Summary
Embracing my belly pooch has been a journey of self-acceptance. Throughout my life, I’ve wrestled with body image, but now, I understand that normal comes in many forms. By recognizing the beauty in all bodies, we can foster a kinder relationship with ourselves.