Although sweet, this is a multi-layered statement, eliciting a complicated emotional response. One that usually ends in laughter, because that’s how I deal with discomfort. This statement acknowledges my squishy parts but simultaneously loves them. It means I can’t hide them, which creates fear, but also asks the question, “Why hide them?”, which is empowering.
Yev made this statement, and it brought up so many feelings. Predominantly that his love for me helps me love myself. But then that kernel of me cringed when he caressed my squishy parts. It was his way of showing love, but to me he was acknowledging something I choose to ignore. Something that makes me feel wholly inadequate.
It’s skin. Loose skin. How can this affect my self-worth? Because it affects my identity.
After 5 consecutive years of having children, I cling to anything that reminds me of who I was before them. As if I’m clinging to a part of my soul that has been pushed out of my body. I love my children, but that love can be consuming, leaving little room for other things. Things that are also important to me.
I feel like I’m finding myself again, after years of being gone. I’m starting to look more like myself, after figuring out my food sensitivities, prioritizing my health, and losing stress weight. However, pregnancy means my body will never actually look the same again, and I struggle greatly with that.
So when Yev acknowledges my squishy parts, it brings up a lot of stuff for me. It reminds me that I’m different now than I was before. Some of this feels bad, but some of it feels good too.
I’ve long believed that if we aren’t growing, we’re dying, and that stagnation is the first step to atrophy. So maybe a changing body isn’t the worst thing, especially when it has given me my girls. I’ll be working on embracing this, so when I acknowledge my “squishy parts” they inspire growth not pain.