Day Fifty-Two: Role Model? or Rolls Model?

After my bath last night, I was getting dressed and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was in a new pair of skivvies and (sadly smaller) bra and I thought "Hey .... wait a second. I look ... trim!" Well, more trim. But there it was: muscle lines in my upper body, sleek calves, tightening thighs and ... what's this? Possible lines forming on the sides of my torso?!?!? Sure I still have a soft, gooey center, but ... it's smaller; the sides, narrower. NO WAY. See, I've always been a fairly modest person and typically Just Say No to Nudity kind of person (name that movie! anyone? anyone? Bueller? no, not Bueller! But guess! Great, great movie) especially since losing my eighth-grader body shape since the kid's arrival on the scene nearly six years ago.

Sure back then I traipsed along southwest Florida's beaches as a newly-minted 23-year-old vessel of human life in a two-piece, but I was comparative eye candy against octogenarians with breast implants. I was gonna win that swimsuit contest, hands down. But after the Great Birth, I felt deflated and my ego/body/self image never quite recovered. Which I am now reminded of every time I do planks (hello lower torso! I can see you waving to me as I stare down my own shirt! I'm waving, too! See?!?! See? My middle finger? Yep, that's for you, buddy!) *sigh* ... I also get this nifty little stabbing pain in my lower left abdomen that never goes away no matter how many ab exercises I do. I feel it every time with crunches, kung fu sit-ups, leg ups, side crunches. And I often feel sick to my stomach after these sets quivering on the floor. Will I ever feel or look good again?


This body image issue was doubly on my mind as I read this article today about Glamour featuring a photo of a "real woman" who is a plus-size model (ha, yea I know, right?) in this month's magazine. She's the person in the photo above. I was torn: I recognized some of myself in her, with her curves and lumps and dimply flesh yet there is joy and laughter and a messy ponytail. And then a small part of me was suspicious: is this just a ploy to get Fat America 'ok' with their curvy, lumpy, dimply selves? How does PCP fit into this movement of loving who you are physically, even with an unPCP body? Is this movement just breeding physical complacency and even laziness and gluttony? Is being unPCP acceptable if you make it popular? Argh too many questions ... brain freeze.