I love this body I have. I’m short. I’m not skinny. I have been this way forever. And I love it.
I love that my body singlehandedly (basically) created two amazing humans. I MADE them. I’m so grateful for my body. I will never be insecure again, because I know this body made my two boys.
They changed me, now I have a few stripes on my belly I didn’t have before, I’ll always have that little c-section pudge that I can’t seem to get rid of. Everything isn’t as pleasant as it was when I was 18.
I know I’ll never be as thin as I was in high school, I’m not sure why that seems to be the goals. I am not a teenager, I am a woman that created two beautiful lives. I don’t want to be how I was whenever I was a teenager (I mean I don’t even understand how I was thin, all I ate was hot Cheetos, pizza and coke).
I am happy the way I am. I am happy with my few extra pounds. I am happy with my stretch marks. I love what I was able to do. I love my body, the temple that housed my favorite creations for 9 beautiful months.