Thursday, 25 March 2010

The Body

So it occurs to me at 8.05 this morning that my body hasn't belonged to me for precisely seven and a half years. Which is the time I got pregnant with The Eldest One and I thought that being pregnant gave me the right to eat unlimited amounts of Haribo without putting on any weight. An 8lb baby later and I realised that my stomach wasn't all baby and water and placenta but infact one giant gummy bear which had taken nine months and 785 packets of Haribo to mutate.
It was also the hottest summer EVER and heat plus breast-feeding plus emergency C-section wound do not a sexy lady create. And I challenge any of you who have ever breast feed not to mention the words breast, boobs, nipples or nipple pads for at least an hour.
The Husband did not help much either with my body taking on a life of its own. I must admit that it was pretty sweet of him to assist me with the breast pump when I looked&smelt like an out-of-date pint of milk, except he somehow managed to put it on the wrong way and completely ANNIHILATED my nipple. And approx four weeks after giving birth, bearing in mind the C-section plus the allergic reaction to the surgical dressing plus the leaking breasts plus the lack of shampoo, The Husband DARES and I really mean DARES to suggest a rendez-vous in the bedroom. He had no idea that my IN door had now become an OUT door to which access was well and truly restricted.
Another two pregnancies later I have managed to get down to a satisfactory weight by eating cigarettes and drinking only bath water but in the process, my body not only belongs to three children but has become like an 80yr old lady's. You do not, repeat, DO NOT want to see me naked. There is only one pose that I can do where my body looks pretty good but if I steer slightly away from this position it turns into a monstrosity.
And over the past 16 months I seem to have grown an extra limb which appears on various parts of me throughout the day. The growth seems strangely cuddly at times, even mutters the odd word and occasionally goes into a cot. I'm getting a bit fond of it except when it appears at 4 o'clock in the morning.
I can't even explain how I feel about my body now it no longer belongs to me. I guess it's like an old friend that you think fondly of but have no desire to put any effort in to. All I can say is that at the end of the day when 3 children have battered it, used it as a servant, stuck to it and ordered it about, it likes to curl up with a Jack Daniels, not communicate or be touched. The Husband must take note.

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