In my youthful 20s, I wasn’t the type to spend hours sculpting my physique at the gym, scrutinizing my reflection for flaws. Sure, I had my share of “problem areas”—a round belly, sturdy thighs, and arms that sometimes wobbled. My breasts have always had a mind of their own, being asymmetrical and a bit saggy. I wouldn’t have been labeled as fit or slender, and “stunning” was never a word linked to my appearance.
Growing up with three brothers afforded me the blissful freedom of not yearning for societal beauty standards. In fact, I’ve learned to appreciate the beauty of being ordinary. My body has served me well over the years. It allowed me to dominate the tennis court, powered me through late-night thesis writing, and helped me haul boxes up three flights of stairs to my first apartment in New York City. It has bounced back from colds, surgeries, and even cancer. Instead of fixating on its visual imperfections, I choose to celebrate its capabilities.
I’ve never been one for lengthy hair and makeup routines. On my wedding day, I spent less than two hours from shower to aisle. My simple dress cost under $100, and rather than hiring a professional photographer with an impressive portfolio, I enlisted a co-worker known for his quirky photography style to capture the day in a fun, relaxed manner.
Looking back at those photos, I notice the way my arms spread awkwardly against my husband’s, yet in another shot, those same arms, with the help of my brothers, are joyfully lifting him into the air. Instead of worrying about how to pose perfectly, I savored the cake and danced until my sturdy thighs could take no more.
When I became pregnant, well-meaning friends warned me of the impending changes to my body. “Use tons of lotion to avoid stretch marks,” they said. “Don’t gain more than 15 pounds, or it’ll never come off.” Yet here I am, two C-sections, 70 pregnancy pounds, and 35 months of breastfeeding later, and not much has changed. I still keep my makeup routine minimal—eyeliner and powder are the extent of it. My belly is still not flat; my arms still quiver a bit, and my thighs remain strong. The most impressive thing about my body lately is not its look but the forehead that often meets the oatmeal-encrusted dining table when my little one refuses to eat the very nuggets he asked for just minutes earlier.
But my body still delivers what I need. I can hold a 35-pound child in one arm and a 25-pound child in the other while managing a diaper bag stuffed with milk, grapes, and bubble bath supplies. I can carry a balance bike and a toddler while navigating a wagon full of groceries uphill. I can even leg-press my 35-pound child while he “flies” our 15-pound cat around as his captive.
Did my belly need to be taut before having kids? It still isn’t, but I’ve gained more than I’ve lost. Yes, my showering habits have changed, and my makeup routine is even more minimal than before, but I find no reason to long for my pre-baby body. Truthfully, I still have it.
It’s truly liberating to not stress about how my looks stack up against others. To any woman considering motherhood, I urge you to embrace your averageness. If your hair wasn’t glossy and full pre-pregnancy, it won’t magically transform afterward. If you’ve never had gravity-defying breasts, don’t expect them to defy the laws of nature post-baby. Embrace the changes, and cherish what your body has accomplished. You’re stepping into motherhood, and your body will continue to do what it’s meant to do—there’s nothing ordinary about that.
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Summary
This article reflects on the journey of embracing one’s body through the lens of motherhood. It highlights the importance of appreciating the body for its abilities rather than its aesthetics and encourages women to let go of societal beauty standards, especially during the transformative experience of pregnancy and motherhood.