Spring has sprung, at least according to the sunshine and flowers, and all the flesh on display around town. Although I'm not a prude, I always surprise myself by being slightly shocked when we go from bundled-up to spaghetti straps and short shorts. People just seem so naked after a winter of layers. It takes me a little while to adjust, and then bring on the sundresses!
Except. This year I've still got my post-baby body flapping around. It irritates me constantly because nothing fits, and then as soon as something does fit, it all changes again. Grump. And I hate shopping - maybe because I've always had a hard time finding clothes that fit well and look good. But even more, I hate that our celebrity-obsessed society does its best to make us feel like crap if we don't look a certain way. Lots of folks have written about this (and yet plenty of girls are stressed and starving themselves) (yes, some boys too), so here's my angle:
The Aztecs (I think it was them, anyway) used to treat women giving birth as warriors, with all the respect and admiration and recognition of courage and danger it involved. That's sort of how I feel - more than the beautiful new-age images of dolphins leaping and flowers blooming, birth is sweaty and messy and scary and angry and loud and wonderful and painful and bloody. And we should wear that with pride: Look at this body - these stretch marks, this flappy belly, these saggy oversized boobs - they created life! From scratch! Fuck yeah!
Instead of looking for clothes that flow and drape and cover, I want to go out into the world in a skimpy outfit and be admired for it. I don't want to rush from locker room to swimming pool, but to strut proudly. This should always be true, regardless of the cause for the shape, but in this case I want everyone to know, because it's a big deal. I should wear that bumper sticker: I'm so crafty, I make people. These are my battle scars, my medals of honor, and I want them to be seen in that light. Look upon this body and feel awe!