New (and not-so-new) moms is one of the largest client segments in health and fitness. The marketing geared at this segment is all about going back. Getting your pre-baby body back, bouncing back, snapping back – back, back, back.
Consider the verbs here – “bounce”, “snap”. Both imply a rapid movement through space and time. And despite the whole “time flies” sentiment, there is nothing rapid about the days, weeks and months post-birth, as the body slowly, but surely, does its body thing – the uterus shrinks, the internal organs (hopefully?) return to their places in your abdominal cavity.
Yet… “OMG, you don’t even look like you’ve had a baby!” is apparently the greatest compliment for new moms everywhere. Because not only your body has to build a human being from scratch, but it also has to magically snap into place. The ultimate goal is to do this really hard thing, but preferably without showing the work involved.
My body grew and expanded, and created a whole organ, and a brand new human, but now we can all pretend that it never happened! Phew!
Thanks, but, no, thanks.
I was pregnant for ten fucking months. (It’s ten, y’all, not nine.) It sucked. Because apparently you are not supposed to skydive, or crawl under barbed wire when you are pregnant. Who would have thought? You are supposed to sit on a cushion (if you can get comfortable, that is), and quietly meditate, and then eat an all-organic green salad to make sure your growing fetus is getting the very best nutrients. I lied on the couch, and ate Big Macs.
I have included a hashtag #postpartum in my photos for a while after giving birth, when a friend asked “so, how long do you include it in your photos? Aren’t you technically postpartum forever?”. Bingo.
I’ve had a baby. My baby is a post-baby body.
Postpartum forever.
[Hmm… This is catchy. T-shirts, anyone?]
Getting back to something (anything) is false reality. You don’t get back to shit. You get to the way it is, it will be or it can be – AFTER.
We need another expression.
Move forward.
Charge.
Lean in.
Pick something.
And none of that bouncing snapping business. I am not a yo-yo.
Hugs, SOLO