I've got belly jelly (4 BIG babies worth of it) how on earth do I climb in bed and feel good rockin' my belly jelly, and not just be acutely aware of it's jiggle the whole time?!?
Well...isn't that the question of the day?
When Aubrey and I received this inquiry, I quickly called dibs on the chance to answer since I feel this falls into my particular specialty...let's just say I have the jiggliest, wrinkliest jelly belly this side of the Mississippi. It really, truly is ugh-worthy, I promise. No matter what I do, I just can't seem to shake the jello (pun intended ;). After 4 babies, each one stretching things out a bit more, I've finally come to accept the fact that the wrinkly skin and loose muscle just isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
So...what's a girl to do now? I've learned to tolerate my ever-present tummy-folds but toleration doesn't exactly foster sexual prowess and confidence au naturel. Of course, there's all the usual answers:
- lingerie to cover up provocatively
- role-playing to help a girl pretend to still be a toned young thing
- denial in an attempt to ignore (la la la what jelly belly? la la la)
- and, of course, plain ol' fashioned leaving the lights off
While all valid answers, they're really just a band-aid, aren't they? They cover things up, not help them heal. Well, just like with an owie that's being covered a bit too often and a bit too tightly, sometimes it's just better to rip the band-aid off in one quick painful pull. Which means...[cue scary music]
- leave the lingerie for the real special occasions (although, honestly, there's many a husband that will claim anytime he gets the rare summin' summin' post-baby is a special occasion)
- enjoy being you, the mother of your beautiful children and your husband's wife, rather then imagining you're someone and somewhere else
- not to mention, leave those darn lights on
In short...really, truly accept your body for what it is. Heaven knows, I'm not claiming I've got this down, I can't even help cringing when I accidentally catch a glimpse of my one month postpartum belly in the mirror. I am, however, trying. I'm attempting to believe my husband when he insists I'm gorgeous and oh-so-sexy. I'm trying to view my stretch marks and wrinkles as battle scars in the war mommyhood wages on my body. And, five and a half years and four kids after I officially became a mom, I'm trying to love, not just tolerate or even accept, but love my body for the amazing things it's done and does everyday. While it's still a bit of a struggle every time I climb into bed, I finally feel like I'm getting there. I don't know if I can honestly claim I'm "rockin' my belly jelly" but I like to think one day maybe I will.