The New Mom Body: My identity crisis

My sons love to watch “Cobra Kai” on Netflix. It’s a sequel to the Karate Kid movies in the 80s. It’s still the same protagonist and antagonist, Larusso and Lawrence, but there’s a twist. It looks like they’ve changed roles and it’s hard to root for anyone since everyone seems to be the bad guy and the good guy all at once. 

Anyway, remember Karate Kid was in the 80s. So my middle son asked me who was older: me or Danny Larusso. I said, “Oh, he’s much older than me. He’s 58. I’m 43.” 

“Woah, Mama! I thought you were older. Your eye bags make you look like you’re 60!”

His older brother gasped. “You can’t say that! You can’t tell a woman she looks old even if she does!”

Ladies and gentlemen, that’s a peek at my life with my adorably impertinent spawn.

I actually don’t have eye bags. What I have are dark shadows (#momlife = #nosleep). I’m not especially concerned about them because a little concealer covers that problem pronto. I switch between Happy Skin and Pink Sugar concealers - these local brands are the best for me. I’m not concerned because I know 8 hours of sleep every night is the ultimate solution. Since my busy mom life prevents that, then there is no use agonizing over my under eye shadows.

I do sometimes think about what I could’ve possibly looked like if I hadn’t been pregnant every year from 2009-2014 and produced said impertinent children. My tummy is stretched and soft. Stretchmarks riddle my tummy, butt, and thighs. My breasts are fuller but also lie lower. My nipples remind me they survived 7 years of non-stop breastfeeding. My body is 30 lbs heavier. And let’s not forget those shadows under my eyes. 

This is what I look like now. I’ve only known this new me for only a few years, 3 or 4 years maybe, so I’m still getting to know this body. Sometimes I don’t recognize it, like when my tummy rests on my thighs when I sit down. That’s always a shock. Another surprise is when I run after my sons and my body doesn’t move as fast or as light as it used to. I feel like I’m in another body. 

In high school, I had a friend, Richard, who was explaining to Aida, our other friend: “Some things just cannot be. Like Frances. She’s the thinnest girl we know. If she got fat, she’s just not Frances anymore.” I don’t even remember what we were talking about but that stuck with me. Everyone always described me as skinny. I was the skinny girl. That was me. When we had our 25th high school reunion last year, I wondered very briefly as I made my way to the venue if they’d think I was still their old friend, given that I am “not Frances anymore.”

It doesn’t help that many Instagram moms and fitness trainers say, “Get your old body back! Get back to the real you!” They always make me feel like motherhood is something to be ashamed of, that my body can’t bear witness to the savage changes it went through, that I must hide all this blossoming. 

Having this new body is strange because it may not be “me” anymore but I’m slowly really liking it. I’m still getting to know this new body but from what I know, I like what I have. I am no longer frail. I am no longer sickly. And though I miss being a size 1 (100 lbs), I also like that I have the boobs and butt that come with being a size 10. Yep, I got 9 sizes bigger. But I also got healthy. I hover around 125 to 130 lbs these days but I’m no longer getting confined in the hospital annually for some illness. I finally have meat on my bones, my face is no longer gaunt, my hair is thicker, I am softer, and I have boobs! 

More than what I look, I also know that this mom body can survive on 4 hours of sleep and still get up, feed my boys, homeschool them, do errands and chores, and work so well that I still get to have a thriving career. I look substantial, I take up more space, I’m more present. I feel more alive!

I will admit I still feel like a skinny girl inside. I forget that conveniently when I down my second serving of cassava cake or when I reach for my third milky-cheese doughnut. But photos and jeans have a naughty way of making me remember I’m no longer that skinny girl. I also have kids who tell me I look like hell haha. But those just-as-honest-as-their-mama kids made me who I am today. I am stronger, healthier. Bigger and heavier, yes, but so much better in every way. 

And my darling boys may think their mama looks like shit most days but I think I’ve never been more beautiful.