I don’t know where to start, mostly because I don’t know exactly what I want to say. Up to this point, most of our blog posts have been pretty well thought-out, and we’ve attempted, at least, to maintain some type of structure/organization to our writing. This one is different, and deliberately so - I’m writing this piece in a very stream-of-consciousness way, almost like a journal entry - the goal being authenticity and candor. If that’s not your vibe, totally get it, that’s why I’m giving you a heads up.

Read on, however, for some honest and deeply personal insight into my relationship with my own body, in a world that is often critical and unforgiving, of women in particular.

Read on to learn about how this pregnancy has helped me reclaim an ownership of and regain a love and an appreciation for my body, imperfections and all.

Read on to discover how these early stages of motherhood have emboldened me to do something I’ve never found the courage to do: to love myself, unconditionally.

Body image is all about perception; it’s not necessarily about what it is that we see when we look in the mirror, nor the body’s corporeal materiality itself, but, rather, body image is about the emotion, the thoughts and the feelings, which that physical representation of our being elicits within us.

Therefore, one’s relationship with their own perception of his/her/their self is unique and deeply personal. I say this as sort of a disclaimer - the words that follow should be seen as a reflection of my own rapport with my physical self, rather than a universal claim (which I am in no way qualified to make). It is my hope that you will either read this and be able to relate in some capacity, or at least get to know me on a deeper level, as I lend some vulnerability.

To get straight to the point, I have struggled for years with my body image, my own perception of my physical self. For as long as I can remember, standing naked in front of a mirror meant scanning my raw and exposed frame for blemishes, defects, inadequacy.

There’s that famous scene from Mean Girls in which the girls stand in front of Regina’s mirror and berate themselves for their less-than-perfect features: “My pores are huge!” and “My nail-beds suck!” … and, who could forget, “I have really bad breath in the morning.” Ew. We all laugh at the absurdity of these “perfect” humans collectively fixating on their superficial flaws, but the irony here is that this is precisely what girls are conditioned to do from a young age: to chastise themselves, and then, to make it even worse, to bond over the experience of collective self-shaming. This is why this movie is so brilliant and so profound in my mind (and why I could watch it again and again and again) - Mean Girls sheds light on so many of the destructive behaviors that have become normalized in our society, and have lead to widespread issues like body shaming and dysmorphia.

In my experience, body image and pregnancy are rarely talked about in conjunction with one another, though they are undeniably connected - inextricable, in my opinion.

During pregnancy, a woman’s body goes through so many changes - physical, emotional, hormonal, etc. - so her relationship with her body is of utmost significance during this time. Her body becomes a home for her baby, and it needs her love more than ever. And yet, she’s grown up in a world that has taught her to shame her body, to hate that which makes up her physical being, to fixate on imperfection, to strive for flawless, and to ridicule herself for falling short of achieving the impossibility of perfection.

Since the very beginning of this pregnancy, my Instagram account has been flooded with ads for workout videos to achieve that “belly-only” pregnancy, or “quick postpartum weight loss tips.” And I think it’s stupid. My body is growing a fucking life force - why should I focus on anything but the health and wellbeing of both myself and my baby? To put pressure on a woman to look a certain way during her pregnancy, or to “bounce back” immediately after becoming a mother, is insanity, and yet that is precisely what the world we live in does to women: it places a stronger emphasis on the way we look than it does on the way we connect with ourselves and the way we feel about ourselves and our bodies.

For me, pregnancy has been a journey of self-discovery in many ways.

It has forced both me and my body to take on a new role as mother and protector of the rapidly growing little wiggler inside my belly. Pregnancy has challenged me to, finally, retrain my brain to consider health (both physical and mental) ahead of appearance, after a lifetime of destructive self-shaming and criticism.

For the first time ever, my body’s purpose transcends and surpasses the shallow presumptions society has unfairly cast upon me throughout my 27 years of life. Pregnancy has emboldened me to be myself, to love myself, and to take comfort within the realm of my own existence, rather than seek outward approval.

The female body, in all its forms, is beautiful, and I’m excited to love mine for the rest of my life.