Some of you might have the pleasure of watching me talk shite on Instagram stories on a regular basis, others of you might believe you have more important things to do with your lives (you’re wrong). Those of you that do may have seen my little rant about creams and oils aimed at pregnant bellies, and the negative marketing that they use. Well I’m still going on about it because, honestly, it really got me fired up.
2016 is the year of body confidence. Every other Buzzfeed post is celebrating bodies, no matter what shape or size and parenting blogs everywhere are giving thousands of words to the Amazonian power that giving birth to a child makes you feel. Stretch marks are tiger stripes. The loose skin on your stomach is just proof of what your body can do. Ruined boobs mean you gave your assets to feed your child. Flaws are no longer flaws, they’re something to celebrate and be proud of.
Except I can’t do that.
It’s been five years since I gave birth and I can’t look at the flaws on my body as something to be proud of. I look in the mirror and see a body that I don’t recognise, a body that I don’t want.