Pillsbury Doughgirl

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IMG_0684I have never once in my entire life on this planet thought of myself as a skinny person, though when I look back at old pictures of myself, I can see that there were times when I clearly was. Now, after having had three gargantuan babies who busted out what few abdominal muscles I may have ever had, and after years of working behind a desk all day, I am most definitely not skinny. More than once I’ve been congratulated on my nonexistent pregnancy. (People! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  If you don’t see a head crowning, NO congratulations are in order)! I probably should do something about the pot belly situation, but the truth of the matter is that I’d much rather spend my time and energy on other things. Besides, I really like to eat. Even so, I feel guilty about my lack of will and am self-conscious about my overly ample girth.

Last week my daughter cuddled up next to me and stroked my doughy midsection saying, “Your belly feels so nice and soft.”

I tensed up and pulled away saying, “Ummm, thanks, but please don’t touch my pot belly!”

Undeterred, she kept kneading away and said, “But it feels so nice and soft, just like a mommy’s belly should! It wouldn’t feel good if it was hard and bony.”

And just like that, this lovely and wise little girl, the light of my life, taught me how to honor the body that created her and two other wondrous miracles.

Related post: Wheat Belly Sisters

2 responses »

  1. I used to say the same thing to my mom, even into my teens. When I would sit at the dining room table doing homework, if she came and stood next to me, her pot belly was just the right height to rest my head on. I thought of it as my personal pillow, because that pot belly was there because of me.

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