Making friends with my body again after a second belly birth is a slow and shy process. The immediacy of two boys' everyday demands is mediated through my skin and bones. Aches proof in my muscles of both the hard work and passivity that is nursing an infant. My hips and pelvis remind me each morning that being the bowl that holds two growing lives means stretching into never being the same. I long to step back into routines of mindful movement but am constantly struck that there is no "back" to return to. What my body once was is gone; what does that mean moving forward? Today, it meant getting a bang trim. Buying coral pink polka dot skinny jeans because why the fuck not, who knows who I am anymore, maybe I am a woman who wears such things. I am a woman who shaved her legs. Who is stepping into what might be.
Linking up with Christina Rosalie's Just One Paragraph.