Tag Archives: body image

For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Lipo When Working Out Isn’t Enough

Listen. Going to the gym sucks. It’s not, nor has it ever been the move. Idc. It’s not fun. It’s not refreshing. It’s not exhilarating, or any other colorful words you people use to camouflage your anguish.

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I’m almost four months postpartum, which puts me a little behind on sculpting my summer body. In case anyone else missed it, it’s summer already and despite breastfeeding and pumping, my belly didn’t melt off like those bombshell moms on Instagram.

See, the last pregnancy I didn’t really care about getting all the way back to my pre-mommy figure because I planned on getting pregnant again pretty quickly. So I worked out…but not that hard. Because why waste all that work just to get all fat again? Right? Right. Follow Me.

But now that I’m done having kids (I think?) I’m on operation bad boosh a la Joseline Hernandez. Except I like to eat Bonchon chicken and am an active french fry connoisseur. Which means I need to be in the gym if I want a snatched waist.

The thing is, I get all excited and research my workouts and have my whole routine in my head for when I go to the gym. Then I get there and the thrill is gone. The only thing keeping me going is 2 Chainz radio and images of Meghan Good in all of her petite glory. Is that normal?

Need New Workout shoes (1)

Example: I go hop on the Arc trainer for some cardio, then head over to the free weight machines like I do EVERY time. Out pops the annoying guy who decides for some reason that you need him to show you how to use the equipment (shoo fly). Or you have the old lunks who leave all their stuff strewn across the equipment that they’re not even using. Like…why is this a thing? Why can’t the doctors just go in and suck all the fat out immediately after giving birth? Why must I cry?

Next comes the group of people who coddle you as if you ‘ve never worked out a day in your life. Irritating. I know it comes from a good place, but I’m not a stranger to this lifestyle. To get back in shape after baby number one, I was in the gym at least four days a week. I don’t need your gym life tutorial…really. Thanks though.

not a baby

Then you have little hiccups like the one I just had. I tried a new form of birth control. And the side-effects–well actually there was really only ONE side-effect. Within a week, I looked 6 months pregnant. Like…SUPER bloated (no, seriously, look up Mirena and bloating) Just as I had started seeing some favorable progress from the gym. Can you imagine how discouraging that is? You put yourself on a plan, start eating like you have sense, then all of your hard work is just null and void because you’re trying to avoid being pregnant again. Like…can I just not be pregnant? Anyway. I stopped that form of birth control and the bloating eventually went down, so now here we are.

I feel like I’m back at square one. But I’m going to keep going to the gym and every time I feel unmotivated I’m gonna think of Draya. That’s an attainable goal for me. I just need y’all to prepare to get tired of me and get your screen shot fingers ready. Cuz once this tummy is flat? Y’all WILL get these crop tops and all these stretch marks. Yaherrrrrd?!

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The Fault in My Scars

Last weekend, my husband decided that we should be baby-less for a day. Between an 18-month-old who’s just discovered running and standing on things, a demanding full-time job, and my husband consistently working overnight and on weekends, I jumped at the chance to live sans baby if only for a few hours.

I immediately obsessed over what I would wear. The forecast called for a mild, low 80’s day, which meant we would probably be spending our quality time outdoors in the city. I decided to go for the perfect combination of sexy and relaxed, settling on a black fold over maxi skirt that he loves to watch my booty in, with a cropped tee — but not too cropped, because tiger stripes.

I showered and applied my sugar-cookie-scented shea butter mix, before heading to the bathroom to continue my grooming routine. I piled on some mascara and painted my lips with “Korean Candy”, one of my favorite summery hues. As I was reaching to coif my hair into my signature messy bun, my shirt rose above my waistline, just enough to expose my stretch marks. Instead of quickly adjusting it as reflex would have it, I paused and found myself admiring the way I looked. I saw sexy. The fold-over on the maxi accentuated my waist perfectly, and the angle at which my top exposed my stomach framed the perfect curve down to my hips. I saw the stretch marks, but they looked perfectly in place as I imagined my husband coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist as he usually does.

For just a hot second, I felt like I wouldn’t mind if my top just so happened to raise up and expose my stomach again during the day… around other people…strangers. For just that quick second, I felt a wave of body confidence that was new to me…

Read the rest at From A Wildflower

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#TBT: Longing for my Throwback Body

Every day, I’m forced to walk past an entire wall of mirrors in order to begin my morning routine. More often than not, I stop and take inventory of what my body has become. Some days I stand and admire the hourglass curve that’s taking its sweet time to re-appear in my torso. Other days I stand there poking and prodding, wondering how much a quick lipo/tummy tuck would set me back.

Yes. I’m a tiger that earned my stripes and my c-section scar is a badge of honor and all that other psuedo-inspirational, instagram meme stuff. But to be real, I’m 25 and if I can be selfish for just a moment, I just want my body back to way it was before.

The thing about being a young mom — given the state of your post-baby body, you may or may not be able to participate in trends made for the twenty-somethings like your peers do. It sounds shallow, but some days you just want to be carefree about what you wear and not have to worry about your “mommy tummy”. I’ll never again know the joys of rocking a breezy crop top with a pair of low riding jeans, and you won’t catch me in a bikini unless the bottoms cover my belly button.

Crop top + high waist. Still MILF-Y.

Crop top + high waist. Still MILF-Y.

Most days it’s “kissmyasssowhat” (Michael Blackson voice).  I had a baby. I have stretch marks. I have a c-section scar that separates one part of my abdomen from the other, which is sometimes visible under clothes. It is what it is. But just when I start to feel somewhat comfortable, there’s a photograph coming across some social network timeline of a mom with a perfectly flat, stretch mark-less stomach. Why can’t EYE look like that?

Don’t mistake this for me saying that I don’t think I’m MILF-Y. Cuz I’m most definitely MILF-Y. I just have to do things a little differently now, like pay attention to the materials I choose, and be mindful of how things will fall on my tummy. If I want to wear a crop top, I have to make sure that whatever I’m wearing on the bottom covers up my tiger stripes. I have to make sure my dress isn’t SO tight in the front that it may show a roll. When an outfit doesn’t flatter you quite the way you imagined it would, it eats away at the tiniest iota of your confidence. We all have those moments. Right?

In a little over a month, my girls and I will be reinstating our annual Miami trip — only interrupted for two out of four of us to give birth. This is the first time post pregnancy that I’m going somewhere where most of the people surrounding me will be quite scantily clad. Of course I don’t want to be the one looking like a covered up granny,  but I’m pretty sure I would feel most comfortable in a one piece WITH a sarong to cover up ALL of my stretch marks–they get on your legs too. But that’s not what I’m going to do. Because I’m just too fabulous for that. Too fabulous, and too MILF-Y.

Miami. Pre-baby.

Miami. Pre-baby.

For the past few weeks I’ve been scouring the net trying to find, mommy-friendly outfits that also won’t have me looking like a “mom” if you know what I mean. I came across a leopard print bathing suit from ASOS. It managed to combine a youthful look with a cut that would cover my major worry spots, so I went out on a limb and ordered it. When it finally came, I carefully peeled back the packaging and examined the size 6 bathing suit.

“This thing looks TOO damn small…

I thought to myself as I began to prepare myself for the worst. I put one leg in, and then the other, and finally pulled it all the way up and tied the strings around my neck. It fit! I have to admit I was surprised. I stepped in front of the mirror and was indeed feeling myself.

I still do wish I could wear some of these really cute cut-out bathing suits and bikinis or wear a little crop top without something high-waisted, but for all of those moments when I’m down on myself, there’s twice as many more that I’m feeling myself — and with good reason *hairflip*.

I think I’ll be alright for the summer.

 

 

 

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