Hypothetically speaking, I would totally be on board with a tummy tuck. You know, if surgery were free — and risk-free.
I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle every day of my life. On one hand, I love working out and getting healthy. But on the other, let’s face it: no amount of regular exercise or diet is going to touch the jelly belly that has become my stomach after having four kids.
Some women “bounce back” and some women honestly don’t have a problem with their bodies after babies. I just happen to not be one of those women.
I’ve always been a woman with a bit of belly, even before having kids. But after having kids? I swear the thing has taken a life of its own. And I feel stuck.
Half of the time, I tell myself I’m fine, totally fine, with the rolls hanging over my yoga pants. I mean, what the heck? There is so much more to life than some rolls. Why am I wasting brain cells even caring? When will I accept that my worth is not tied to my appearance?
And then, the rest of the time, I tell myself that it’s ok to accept that I want something different. After all, it’s OK to try a different exercise routine, hope some diet changes will help and maybe even strive for what feels impossible to me now, wearing (gasp!) a bikini someday. I can barely even type that without chortling a bit.
So here’s my truth bomb: Even though I know that I am more than my appearance and that there is no such thing as a “perfect” body, I am still obsessed with the way my stomach looks, because it seems to affect every part of my life. Sex life with my husband? Totally self-conscious. Hitting the beach? Gotta find a swimsuit I can feel comfortable in. Running down my road? All of my so-called “athletic” tops just ride up and let the belly hang. Not cool.
The point is, it’s complicated to be a woman and I’ve realized that if it came right down to it, I would totally get a tummy tuck. I’ve worked hard enough on myself to get healthy. I genuinely enjoy working out and exercising but frankly, gosh darn it, don’t I deserve it after four pregnancies?
Maybe someday I’ll find that mythical, magical place where women like me can learn to genuinely feel comfortable in their own skin, even if that skin happens to come with 50 percent extra for free.
Now, who wants to loan me $5,500 for a tummy tuck?