Having Babies Did Not Make it Okay For My Stomach to Look Like That
Lots of people say "you earned that postpartum body, mama; embrace it." I disagree.
When I became pregnant with my first son, I worried a lot about stretch marks. I bought cocoa butter lotion, used it religiously, and drank water as if I were training for a marathon in the desert. I didn’t really need to worry, as it turned out. I was in my mid-twenties, still producing plenty of collagen, and the two or three marks that showed up near the end of the third trimester faded pretty quickly. I got lucky.
But my first experience with stretch marks didn’t come through pregnancy. My first stretch marks showed up on my thighs when I was in my early teens. A growth spurt in height followed later by puberty weight gain brought them out. They’re still there. I hated them then, and I can’t say I love them now. They’ve clung to my legs for twenty years, a constant reminder that my legs– and I myself– have never matched the models selling skincare or actresses on magazine covers.
Another baby came along, more stretch marks showed up and stayed. These days, I’m bigger than I ever was in my most self-loathing years as a teen. One night, scrolling Facebook Reels, I pause against my better judgment on a video that purports to fix my self-esteem issues.
