I have started and deleted paragraphs for the last hour. Am I sharing too much? Too little? Will they understand WHY I am opting to dive into surgery? I decided to stop fretting and start writing.
This is for me. This is a diary to share my emotions. This is my mommywonderand. A place to record my thoughts. A place to reflect. A place to look back and see where my mind was at during moments like these.
How do I even begin to describe this choice without going on and on and on? Why do I feel I need to justify what’s about to happen to me in one week? In my heart I know I don’t. My social media family, although often opinionated, has proven to me over the past four years that they support me. And yet, today I want to make sure you really understand.
I’ll start with the “post-baby-body” I was left with after child #2. I was 26 when my last baby was born. Oh how I remember that fine age. My metabolism was working hard for me back then. Oh the good ol’ days when I could still eat cheeseburgers and fries, workout the next day and drop 5 pounds. And then I turned 27. Even though it didn’t happen that fast, I noticed my metabolism was slowing and my body didn’t recover from late night ice-cream runs like it once did. I decided to put down the burgers, and pick up the spinach. It was time to make consistent healthy food choices.
I worked hard. I made good choices. I stayed focused and on point because “abs are built in the kitchen right?” The work brought results. I lost my baby weight, but NO WAY did my body look the way it did before kids. If you follow me on instagram you’ve seen my journey. I’ve lost pounds, I’ve lost inches, and I’ve lost most of my “pooch.” But what remained was my war-torn belly of mommy scars…stretch marks.
Don’t get me wrong. I love what each line represented. I love my boys. I’m proud to be a mom. It was a dream come true for me and raising them is my greatest joy. But that didn’t change how I felt in a bikini. The pride I have in being a mommy was often masked by the shame I felt when my belly was exposed. I battled in my mind for years over my insecurity. Was this just vanity? Was I wrong for not embracing these “war scars” as blessings?
Inside I recognized my mind was just battling fear. Fear of what friends would think. Fear of what Facebook would think. Fear of family. Fear of what you would think. I had to do what I learned from so many personal development books I’ve read have taught me to do. I had to punch fear in the face! I had to embrace the truth I know about me.
I never stopped working on me. I’m committed to health because I love feeling healthy.Yes, I have moments of cheeseburger weaknesses, but I fight for health every single day.
This is not about you. No offense but it doesn’t really matter what you think. It matters how I feel in the body God gave me.
I’m not doing this to like myself more. I’m good with me. Five years ago that was not the case. Had you met me then you’d know me liking me has been a process. But I do like me. Scratch that. I love me. I’m confident in me. This won’t make me a better woman. It won’t change who I am. And thanks to God and a whole lot of small group time with the ladies at church, I’m really glad about that!
So there it is. Next Tuesday, November 3, I’m doing it. I’m going under the knife. I will share each moment with you. Even the post-op pics. You’ve learned by now, my life is an open book. I hope you’ll keep reading.