And I don’t dare step on my scale. You know how you just know you have added a few pounds simply by the way your clothes fit? That’s me this morning. I’m not feeling particularly perky or optimistic this morning with the way I look and feel, so I thought instead I’d share a little perspective.
Yesterday on one of the bulletin boards I frequent, someone posted a website to go che
ck out. Blindly I clicked to see what it was, and I found myself entranced. The Shape Of A Mother is a blogspot website devoted to women’s bodies. And not movie stars and supermodels. Rather, real women. Women who have carried a child or two, women who have been overweight and lost it, women who are riddled with stretchmarks and whose bodies hold the ultimate badge of motherhood- the pooch. You know, that soft extra poof of “stuff” that hangs between the belly button and the “nether regions”. It’s a rather remarkable website. And the stories to go with are riveting. And some are sad and tragic. With a warning attached that these are real photos of real women, and if you read on, kleenex may be a necessity, here is a link to Shape Of A Mother.
All in all i
t’s a beautiful site, and is a fascinating tribute to Mother’s. Yet in it’s own way, it makes me a little more determined this morning. With women all over lamenting their motherly bodies- surely there is more to be done than what can be done with a laser. One would think that through enough of the right exercise and diet, that Mommy figure can be reduced to a fraction of it’s former glory. I am telling myself that I can do more. Unlike Bridget Jones who quips “and yes, I’m always going to be just a little bit fat.” I can change myself. I don’t always have to resort to painful corsetry to make an evening gown look the way it’s supposed to. And as I’m typing this I’m feeling a little more determined. I’m contemplating pulling the Abworks out of the basement and I’ve got the other computer fired up to check on FitTV’s line-up today.
But then I remember that we’re having my sister Lizzie and her soon to be hubby over for dinner, and I planned to make a cake…So maybe my resolve will wait. Or maybe, just maybe, I can joyfully sample a piece of this cake and send the rest of it on it’s merry way with our company. Baby steps my friends, baby steps.