On body image and pregnancy.

Or: What the fuck do you want from us, world?

Being fit is beautiful.

Being pregnant is beautiful.

Having a flat belly is beautiful.

Having a ginormous basketball-sized belly is beautiful.

Being cut is beautiful.

Being curvy and soft and “glowing” is beautiful.

Wait. What?

I’ve spent 37 years being told by every piece of information that comes into my eyes and ears from real people and media and bullies and just plain life experience that thinnish and fit-ish is the way to be.

And now I’m pregnant, with hormones and physical limitations and a small human inside of me creating a perfect storm of “you will be big and mushy no matter what” and I’m supposed to be able to just flip some switch that makes me feel OK about having a huge belly and growing out of a new size of clothes every month?

I’m sorry. But (earmuffs) that’s fucked up.

(disclaimer: I have many many issues and things to say about body image, pregnancy, and the combo. And I know that being pregnant is a dream come true for some people and I am not at all meaning to sound ungrateful. This is only about body image and being honest about how it feels.)  

The only thing I’m trying to say right now is this:

Why do we have it set up so the one thing that our bodies are biologically built to do, that makes us “women,” creates a body that is the exact opposite from the one that our culture tells us is good? AND THEN, we have societal pressure to be totally serene about it and not call bullshit. That’s bullshit!

I am struggling with being in a pregnant body. You might not. Maybe you didn’t. Great for you! But I am.

I am suffering from a completely rational case of cognitive dissonance.

I’m calling bullshit.

I’m not interested in trying to convince myself to not be upset about it anymore. I’d rather be mad and motivated than fake.

I’m not OK with it. But I’m OK with that.


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