A real, tired, un-showered, un primped mother
Look around your space how much of what you are looking at right now at this moment is real? I’m looking at beautiful watercolors of Venice and Florence. The paintings are of real places but they are art. An artist interpretation of what his eye saw.
There is a stack of magazines on the floor, newspapers, ads. They are filled with supposed “real” people. But they aren’t real. They have been styled, made up, airbrushed, posed. They have been turned into art by the photographer stylist, designer. They are real things presented as an interpretation of that persons idea of perfect yet they are sold to us as reality.
I want my daughters to know real.
Real beauty, real bodies.
We protect them from a lot. We don’t have cable. My women’s magazines are kept hidden and we don’t get Victoria’s Secret catalogs. They watch princess movies yes, but that is as far as Disney penetrates our house. There is no Glee, no High school Musical, no pop music. We are currently doing our best to keep Barbie at bay. We have been called prude told we are sheltering our children.
Shelter I will, for as long as I can for I want my daughters to know what Real beauty is, what real women look like.
Casey is amazing. She is brave and beautiful and she bared her soul and belly over at Babble to help our girls, our society see that real women don’t strut down the cat walk weeks after having babies.
It's easy to beat ourselves up, especially as new first time moms. You don't see other's flaws only their perfections. We see snippets of moms and celebrities online, and they seem perfect. We compare our worse to their best. It's easy to believe that the painted picture of perfection is reality.
Reality is not perfect.
Reality is messy and broken and scratched and stretched, scared and healed.
This is reality
11.5 months postpartum
1 umbilical hernia repair