I don't even know exactly how to write this. Strange, isn't it? The woman with all of the words is suddenly silent? This morning you and I made our way to the dressing room. I'd been putting this task off for months, but I could do so no longer. The lights and mirror gave me a greenish tint, and I laugh thinking about how as much as my body has changed over the last fifteen or so years, dressing rooms have not.
In over a decade and a half we have changed. Right in the middle of my semi-soft tummy is that hole which once held a belly button ring. The piercing I got a few months after graduating from Evangel, which forbid such a practice. That empty dot above my navel reminds me of how I balance rule-following with my independent streak. I think of our old flat belly and I smile and say, thank you and farewell. To everything there is a season, and that season of our life is done.
Today I saw a mid-section that has given birth to two sweet baby boys within eighteen months. My preemies left me no stretch marks on my skin, but the NICU weeks left stretch marks on my soul. I saw a body who has nursed two out of the last three years. There were a lot of tears in that process, so I thank you for helping me endure that privilege. I wouldn't trade back my current state for my perkier state for all of the money in the world. The changes in my body remind me that I am a mommy - the thing I have wanted to be more than anything else. Change is good, even if society doesn't always affirm these changes.
We have changed in other ways, too. My hair has been it's natural color for a few years now, no longer dyed red, like in my "My-So-Called-Life" phase of high school or highlighted on a regular basis like in my college years. And remember the time right when I met The Hubs when I had a streak of pink? Thanks for being the type of hair that has allowed me to experiment with cuts and colors. I'm sorry for being so boring lately, but I appreciate you working with me in this phase of life.
I'm sorry for doubting you in my teens and early twenties - for calling you ugly and awkward. I'm sorry for saying mean things in recent days, too. And by recent I mean nearly every day of my adult life wishing away the marks on my face and cursing the nose and the eyebrows that make me want to cry. I will try to stop doing that.
Thank you for being tall enough that I will never have to hem anything. That is a blessing for someone who cannot sew a button. Thank you for long fingers that can pound out the keys when I am in need of some piano-therapy. Thank you for the strange way that I walk, with my toes down and heels up. If that was the biggest thing I was made fun of for in my youth, than I am a pretty lucky person.
Thank you for holding up with me. I promise to really try to do more than Zumba once a week to get us in shape. Not because I need to look a certain way, but because I want us to be around for quite awhile. And our current routine (or lack thereof) of exercise may be an even dumber decision than the belly-button ring.
|(me about two years ago with baby Bubby and pregnant with Bugaboo)|