By: Sarah Mitchell
Updated: Aug. 26, 2019
Originally Published: Oct. 25, 2015
In my sturdy 20s, I was not one to spend endless hours in the gym, scrutinizing my reflection for perceived flaws. I’ve always had my share of imperfections—a bit of a round belly, sturdy thighs, and upper arms that jiggle a little. My breasts have been asymmetrical and droopy for as long as I can remember. “Fit” or “gorgeous” was never a term anyone would use to describe my physique.
Growing up with three brothers provided me with the opportunity to appreciate the joys of being average. In fact, I view my typical appearance as a blessing. My body—this very body—has served me well. It helped me dominate the tennis court, fueled me through all-nighters to meet thesis deadlines, and carried my belongings up three flights of stairs during my chaotic move to a New York City apartment. It has shown resilience through illness and surgery. By not fixating on its aesthetic flaws, I can celebrate its functionality.
I’ve never been one to spend hours primping. On my wedding day, I was in and out of the shower in under two hours. The unadorned dress I wore, which draped from my broad shoulders, cost less than $100. Instead of hiring a photographer with an impressive portfolio, I enlisted a co-worker known for his edgy photography style to capture the day as if it were a wild rock concert rather than a formal event.
Looking back at those photos, I can see my upper arms pressed unattractively against my husband’s, yet in another shot, my strong arms are joyfully hoisting him into the air, assisted by my brothers. I was too busy savoring my cake and dancing until my legs gave way to worry about how to pose my average body in the most flattering way.
When I found out I was expecting, the warnings began: “Use plenty of lotion to avoid stretch marks. Don’t gain more than 15 pounds, or you’ll never shed it. Enjoy your luscious hair and firm breasts now because everything is about to change.” Here I am today, after two C-sections, 70 pounds of baby weight, and 35 months of breastfeeding. My body has seen little transformation. My eyeliner and powder routine is as minimal as ever. My belly isn’t flat, my arms still quiver, and my thighs remain robust. The only thing that’s truly overwhelming these days is the forehead I’ve planted onto the oatmeal-coated table when my little one refuses to eat the chicken nuggets he begged for just moments earlier.
Yet, despite these changes, my body still meets my needs. I may not always bite my tongue, but I can carry a 35-pound child in one arm and a 25-pound child in the other while lugging a diaper bag filled with milk, grapes, and bath supplies. I can manage a balance bike and a toddler while pulling a wagon loaded with groceries up a hill. I can leg-press that energetic child while he plays “airplane” with our cat.
So, my belly wasn’t flat before motherhood? It isn’t now either. I’ve lost nothing of value. I shower less frequently and my makeup routine has dwindled, but honestly, I don’t miss those aspects of my former life. There’s no need to long for my pre-baby body; it’s still here in essence.
It’s liberating not to care how my body and face stack up against others. For any woman contemplating motherhood, I urge you to embrace your ordinary. If your hair wasn’t thick and glossy before pregnancy, it won’t magically transform afterward. If you’ve never had gravity-defying breasts, you won’t be surprised to discover you still need support after nursing. Let go of comparisons and appreciate the remarkable things your body can do. You’re about to embark on the journey of motherhood, and your body will rise to the occasion. There’s nothing average about that.
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