This hanging over of flesh is called a mother’s apron. I gained almost 90 pounds during my first pregnancy. My daughter barely weighed in with eight of them. A little bit of the gain was water and amniotic fluid. The rest was skin and fat, stretched out to grow another human into this wild world. When that human came out of my body, my belly collapsed, and then continued to grow as my lack of self love and nutritional knowledge got the best of me.
This is the most shameful thing about me, and also the most beautiful. This belly, which grew to feel like an actual spare tire, exists because every time my feelings were hurt, I ate sugar and I smoked a cigarette. My feelings were hurt a lot. I’ve always found myself in the presence of assholes. This belly is a trophy of the pain that I have endured in this human experience so far. And it also exists because I literally stretched myself out, to make space for another person, a very special person. And then I did it again six years later. There’s nothing more beautiful than motherhood. This belly is a sacred portal, where my children manifested into my life.
This belly is so meaningful to me. And yet, I despise it’s existence. I constantly shift, layer and crop out my pictures, in an attempt to hide it. Sex has always been unnerving, especially during the nude reveal with a new partner… I hate trying to feel sexy in this body. I thought men would run in shame, until one day when I saw the video of a man walking up behind a rusty old car on the side of the street. The car was running, but parked and spit firing. The man unzipped his pants, squatted down, and proceeded to fuck the rusty old muffler. Men will literally fuck anything.
In August of last year, I experienced a major change in perspective. Certain events culminated in my life, which led me to an epiphany about energy and boundaries. To describe that epiphany is still a daunting task, but I can tell you that finally understanding the way energy works was the bridge that lead to unconditional self love, which included learning to love this slab of blubber that strapped itself around my hips. I used to say that it looked like the love child of Freddy Krueger and the Michelin Tire man. Now I call it my Mother’s apron, a term they used to describe a collapsed muffin top in the fifties.
Since this change, I’m much more forgiving of myself and have learned to trust my intuition over everything else. I was able to completely understand the process of boundaries and the consequences of not having them. I had no boundaries with people. I had no boundaries with food. Now I have boundaries with both.
I discovered intermittent fasting, autophagy, and the miracle of ketosis. Since I quit my job in April, I have only been eating once a day, most days. And when I eat more often, it’s still within a 4-6 hour window, and never more than two days a week. When I do eat, I eat a lot and try to watch my macros.
I regularly apply castor oil packs at night and drink apple cider vinegar water all day. I drink a lot of tea. I have patience with myself when I cheat. I am teaching myself how to take care of myself. Self care was not a common action in my family. In the past year, I quit smoking, cut way down on drinking, kicked it up a notch with weed (it inhances my spirituality). I have radically changed my diet, and have lost a lot of volume. I’ve lost a ton of old beliefs as well. I have not weighed myself since I was down 30 pounds. That was many weeks ago.
I stopped letting people and their opinions take up space in my mind, even the people whom I have respected. I started appreciating the very few people that were allowed to stay in my circle….which was literally just my two daughters and my friend, Julie. I stopped agreeing to do things I didn’t want to do. Stopped making plans I didn’t want to make. And then I started making the plans that I did want to make. I started to design the life that I wanted to live. I started to realize that I am in control.
I got my massage license. I quit my day job. I’m doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. Yesterday, I sent a message to a guy who I have not spoken to in a year. I had a very intense and passionate dream about him the night before. It was the sexiest dream I’ve ever had. I woke up and knew I had to speak to him. I messaged asking how he’s been. He responded, saying that he had been thinking a lot about reaching out to me too.
This one, I promise you, is going to test me in every possible way. But I know now that I can handle it and continue to maintain my vision and vibration. The old me would have masterbated and then ate sixteen candy bars to stuff down the disappointment of not being able to live the reality of that dream. The new me sent a very cocky message, ensuring that I absolutely will live that dream out.
I can’t wait. And even though my belly is still flapping over itself, and I have much more weight to lose… I have no reservations about my body, mind, or spirit. I am living completely in alignment, and I finally understand that this is all happening for the simple idea of pleasure, because what else would you paint on your blank canvas of life? I’m all done with painting a life of misery and regurgitated pain. It’s time to paint myself into a masterpiece.