On pregnancy and body image: I feel bad about my bum
17.09.11
I waddled into the living room, Mike was watching a documentary about Jacqueline Kennedy.
“Does my ass look like a TV?”
“Why are you standing in the living room half naked? I’m watching TV.”
“But do you think you could watch it on my ass?”
In truth, I am not so much bothered by my new screen-sized bum — the laws of physics deem that something, after all, needs to oppose the weight of the protruding front — as I am fascinated by it. I am used to taking up a certain amount of space in the world. I am used to being a small person with a very loud voice. Now my person has caught up with my loudness, and something about the new ratio feels new worldish to me. It’s almost as if, in addition to growing a baby in my uterus, I have grown a second head or a third breast or something.
This sense of novelty is due in part to one aspect of my physicality that I am not prone to talking about in public. I like to be liked and the following, at least in female circles, does not make me likeable. Throughout my adult life, my body had not changed significantly since it became an adult body. It remained, steadfastly, at 114 pounds, give one or take one, no matter what I did. I know fashion models say this sort of thing too, and celebrity anorexics, but please note, I am 5-foot-3, no model, and an avid fan of the French bakery down the street. Also, sometimes I am pretty sure my face looks 10 years older than it should. But the rest of my body? Cards on the table, it’s pretty much the opposite.
Source: National Post (blog)