Baby Chewed

I have to admit, I'm pretty happy to have my body back.

Now, when I say "back", I don't mean it in the glossy-mag, "Get Your Pre-Baby Body Back!" way.  That, as I have covered before, is more or less impossible, because bones.  I just mean I'm happy to be able to take a full breath, eat a full meal, fully empty my bladder, and not be constantly running my belly into objects.

Also it's nice to see my ankles again.

Which is not to say I'm not eyeing by body with a mind towards getting it back into "fighting-trim", once I'm cleared for/feel up to exercise beyond gentle yoga and slowly meandering around the block.  I've definitely been taking stock of New Changes, and working to restructure my mental image of myself to encompass said changes.

One of the New Changes is a fine display of new stretchmarks (or "tiger stripes", as I like to call them).  I already had a decent collection on my breasts and hips from making it through Puberty (and carrying excess poundage through my early twenties), but (much to my surprise) the TLG pregnancy didn't really result in any new ones.  This time around, however, I carried lower than I did with TLG, and as such I've acquired some new, raspberry-colored tiger stripes on my (still quite rounded) lower belly.

So I was staring at those in the mirror the other day, and at my not-perky-but-heavy-with-milk breasts, and the silver on display in the roots of my hair, and the phrase, "baby-chewed" kept going through my mind.

And I felt inordinately pleased.

You see, "baby-chewed" is not my phrase.  It's a phrase used multiple times by Robert Heinlein when describing older mothers (including grandmothers and great-grandmothers).  His characters describe them admiringly, as beautiful with their soft stomachs and pendulous breasts, as being very attractive and desirable, because their bodies have been lived in.  These women are also very intelligent and accomplished, of course, because that's how Heinlein characters roll, and it's clearly stated that these inner qualities are a large part of their beauty.

(Heinlein also had a thing for redheads, which, uh, might also have had in influence on the more shallow end of my Personal Beauty Standards...)

This attitude regarding the beauty of a lived-in body (in spite of other, somewhat problematic aspects of his writings) was a very healthy one for a prepubescent girl to be exposed to, because it embedded itself into my psyche at an impressionable age, and left me feeling a lot more comfortable with/looking forward to Signs of Aging than our culture deems Appropriate for Women.  For example, I remember being thrilled when I finally started getting crows' feet, a reaction which puzzled more than one person of my acquaintance.  But I like having evidence of much I smile!  And now I'm feeling pleased with my new tiger stripes silently proclaiming that this shell of mine has carried life multiple times.

Love the skin you're in, people- the more lived-in, the better.