I saw a twitter screenshot recently, retweeted by a girl who doesn’t have kids. The tweet said ‘let me just say what everyone is thinking— your stretch marks aren’t beautiful.’
Even though I wouldn’t call myself body positive (about my own body) and even though I wish I didn’t have stretch marks and rolls and my body hasn’t ‘bounced back’ and I haven’t figured out how to get into a productive workout routine like I would like to….the comment struck me the wrong way.
When I look at my stretch marks I don’t see beauty or ugliness. I see awe. They aren’t a fashion statement to be debated over by the masses. They are simply a fixture on my body to remind me of something miraculous God allowed me to do. To hold life and birth it. Stretch marks, to me, are the left behind proof that I am capable of doing something incredibly hard and worthwhile and I thank God that He gave me the ability to have children where so many cannot.
I don’t know— I guess my takeaway is that it seems weird to talk about something incredibly personal in a demeaning light and blanket statements like that aren’t loving to people who struggle with body image. Just be nice, if you have rolls and stretchy bits and marks— it’s natural, it’s a simple fact of genetics, it’s part of the story of the birth of your children and if you like them don’t be made to feel as though you shouldn’t, I think.
Just be nice, folks. It’s a harsh world out there.
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