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Wednesday, November 3, 2010

VSG surgery Warriors and war paint


I miss my old old stomach.  I don't mean the part that they plucked out of a dime sized hole and put into the biohazard bin. I mean the stomach that I had before I became a mom.
Separated muscles and stretch marks have replaced what was once a smooth, even landscape. Even the tongue of Romance cannot make separated muscles and stretch marks sound better.  Rectus diastasis and striae-say it 5 times fast.

These rivulets, these areas where my skin said " ENOUGH!", are not a mom-ument to the love that I have for my son. I don't need this proof, visual and tactile, that my body nurtured and bore another life into being; he is proof enough of that.
I don't have the courage to bear my stretchmarks like some warrior mother, brave and strong. I want to be on the front lines, assured, confident, war paint the only armor I need to fend the blows of the unrelenting attack of the opposing army. I want to give a swift kick and a swifter "FU!!!" to the second lieutenant of Perfection
Instead,of war paint, I want body paint to cover up all of this....this.....this.....

Because my belly is no longer covered with a mask of insulating fat and I'm closer and closer to where I want to be, the reality that it won't be how it used to be is staring me in the face.

This new stomach beats my old stomach, but I really want my old, old stomach.



  1. I adore you! You seem to be able to put voice to what many of us feel and for that I am indebted.

    I have been re-reading "The Velveteen Rabbit" as a therapeutic book again...

    "The Velveteen Rabbit"

    BY Margery Williams

    "What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

    "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but Really loves you, then you become Real."

    "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

    "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

    "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

    "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get all loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
    You my lovely friend, are real and become more real by the day and your beauty lies in the classic and the not so classic lines you carry on your skins and the curved ones that make men are more than the sum of your parts.

  2. Ok. I want to cry now too.

  3. Dangit i just read this whole thing and was thinking the whole time, I remember this story from some where before #smh
    Still good though, kinda like cold pizza or al day chicken wings!


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