I don’t yet love the way my body looks but, I love that it grew, yes grew, a small human being who I am now blessed enough to call my son.
I don’t yet love the way my body looks but I love that it sustained two litres of blood loss and kept on fighting.
I don’t yet love the way my body looks but I love that it has gone from a body full of pain and aches, from being pregnant and giving birth, to a body that I can now work out in and work towards being healthier and happier.
My breasts have always just been an inconvenience to me, but they were my baby’s food source for a short 48 hour period, but they were still his food source. His nourishment. From my body. Despite not being able to breastfeed my baby for as long as I would have liked to, I am still proud of my body for doing it for that short time.
The freckles that mark my face, arms, chest and back are each little reminders of warm memories spent walking in sometimes unbearable heat, but none the less, with a smile on my face.
I don’t yet love the way my body looks but I love that upon it is my baby’s favourite place to fall asleep.
My squidgy tummy is a reminder that I carried my son for 9 entire months and then some. The stretch marks which have turned from purple to pink and silver are the proof that my body adapted to provide a home for my baby.
I don’t yet love the way my body looks but I am determined to feel comfortable in my own skin again.
I’ve always hated my thighs. Even when I had a thigh gap, I still hated them. I still strongly dislike them now, but I don’t hate them. They are the only legs that I have and the only two legs that I will ever have and unlike some, I am lucky enough to actually have my legs, so I shouldn’t be so hard on them. They have taken me to many places and I’m sure they will continue to do so.
I don’t yet love the way my body looks but it is my body. I don’t yet love the way my body looks but I’m getting there.