So I was going to call this post ‘how people’s bodies change’ but because it is such an individual thang I thought I would stick to what I know. Me. Plus I couldn’t cope with the thought of some ladycakes reading this 2 hours post natal and saying – ‘Not me, I just snapped straight back into shape’ and some people do. Oh the injustice of genes (and skinny jeans).
So (deep breath) here is what happened to me:
1. My belly button now resembles an arsehole. I kid you not. I am 4 months post natal with my third child and my belly button has decided to resign from its role as a button and stand in solidarity with all the arseholes out there. If I’ve had a few drinks and look down it can really freak me out, I can think I’ve put my head on the wrong way – bit weird. Of course I’ve got the stretch marks to complete the set which sort of makes my stomach look like it’s melting in the bath.It’s a great show for the kids (because if you already have an audience..) ‘I’m meeelllltttiiinnnngggg’.
2. I couldn’t write this without mentioning that everything does indeed go South (or South West/South East) It was never going to go North was it? (without the help of a good surgeon anyway). This was expected but still disappointing. When there was talk of breastfeeding in public pre kids I had zilch problem with the thought of it. I was pretty proud of the puppies and they’d often make an appearance after a few drinks on a night out (sorry bouncer at Reading Student Union). But now, not so much. They are definitely not going to win any awards, and I was more inclined to be discrete about breastfeeding than anticipated – although it is easier to be discrete when you just have to tuck baby under the bottom of your jumper (hmmm what is the number of that surgeon?).
3. The bags. And not the shopping bags, nappy bags, nursery bags, PE bags or laundry bags that I spend half my life lugging from A to B but the dark bags that have happily settled under my eyes and refuse to budge. Two words people – make-up. People often tell me how well rested i’m looking for someone with 3 under 5’s. Fools. If it’s not a filter (on Instagram, I haven’t worked out how to put one on life yet) then it’s make-up. Lots of make-up. And then a little more just before I head out the door. Forgot the nappies, remember the Touché Eclat under eye concealer. You’ll be happier for it (but in an ideal world remember the nappies too because your offspring will stink and it can taint the look – NB they don’t write that on the packaging).
4. I got tattoos. As someone who has never really liked tattoos this was fairly surprising (although not an actual surprise, that would be illegal) As a control freak the lack of say I had over the above changes annoyed me. So I decided to take control of the markings on my body and got a little tattoo to represent each of the children. Something I had chosen, something I think looks nice and something that represents the biggest change of all – the little permanent pals that come with the gig.
So I guess I’m telling you this on the off chance that you’ve experienced some changes you are less then delighted with. Also so hopefully, one day, my girls can read this blog and embrace the strange things that happen with pregnancy and childbirth. Although it seems I may not have to (they are knowing little sods) and as I got out the bath the other day I had this conversation:
5 Year Old – ‘Mummy your tummy button looks funny’
Me – ‘it’s not funny, it’s beautiful, it looks like that because you, your brother and your sister grew inside my tummy’
5 Year Old- ‘I knew that mummy and I know it’s beautiful. Funny and beautiful can be the same thing you know?’
Girl’s got a point.