There comes a point in each pregnancy where my body image issues start to get out of control. I become very aware that I’m going to balloon and I start to freak out once I start seeing signs of it happening.
I can’t remember when the it all started. For better or worse, I didn’t use to care much about how I looked, as was evident from my childhood photos. Browsing the old photos albums, also evident was the fact that my folks didn’t care much about how I looked either. For the entire duration of my primary school life, I was basically known for my ridiculous specs and let’s just say that for an 8-year-old who is not Harry Potter, thick round plastic specs is the equivalent of sartorial suicide. But I wore it with pride because I was more concerned about being able to see clearly than how I was being seen.
Along the way though, those body image issues came creeping in and once they did, there was no turning back. That list has been steadily growing till this very day.
Let’s see, we’ve got:
The eyebrows. If left unattended to, they will stop existing in the plural form and grow into one singular eyebrow stretching across my face.
Crazy hair that does not listen to reason or hair products.
Cheeks that are prone to chubbiness. Chubby cheeks are cute to have at 3, but not so much at 30 and yet somehow, any additional weight I put on seems to find its way straight to my face.
Athletic calves. Some might call them stumpy. I prefer to call them muscular.
Giant feet. My feet are about the same size as the husbands’ so…that’s sexy.
Child bearing hips. It might have been considered hot once upon a time in ancient China but they’re not so good when you’re attempting to put on a pair of skinny jeans in 2014 Singapore.
A post-baby tummy that does not seem to go away no matter how many crunches I do. Which is mostly none.
Last weekend, I was trying to fit into my jeans while peering at my ass from 15 different angles to ascertain if it has gotten bigger. I’m fairly certain that it has. That colossally sucks. As I was wallowing, Kirsten burst into the room to show me her new hairband. I know because she said, “Mom, see my new hairband!” Then without skipping a beat, she said, “wah, you look so pretty” before turning around and walking right out.
I felt pretty good about myself for the rest of the day.
So the ass might gotten a little bigger but body image issues can kiss my um… you know, because my baby girl sees the good parts and those are the parts I should be looking at too.