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Post Baby Body Revelations

Hi, my name is Mallory, and I’m a sugar addict who doesn’t particularly like to exercise.

Now that we’ve got basic introductions out of the way, let me tell you my reason for being here: My husband and I welcomed a sweet baby girl on May 3, 2016. If you’re doing the math, that is over one year ago, AND I STILL HAVEN’T LOST MY PREGNANCY WEIGHT! Okay, that’s a slightly misleading statement, mainly added for shock value. I have lost some of it.

After having my daughter, Greer, I guess I thought these pesky extra pounds would just magically disappear with minimal effort or activity, but sadly, we’re not living in a teddy bear and lollipop world.

While dwelling on my postpartum body, it got me thinking about the bigger picture, specifically conjuring up this question:

How many years I have spent in this hate-hate relationship with my body?

Practically half of my life by my calculations. This is sad and pathetic, and I know that. I know that I am more than what numbers on a scale tell me. I know that. I know that there are far worse things in life than hanging onto a few additional pregnancy pounds. I know that. I know my life won’t be fairy-tale-esque with galloping unicorns just because I hit some coveted “goal weight”. I know that. I logically know all of these things.

But here is what I also know: I don’t want to be 31 years old and self-conscious about my body. Yet, here I am. My body does not look its best right now, but more importantly, it doesn’t feel its best. Many days, I feel tired and sluggish and slow. I can make a lot of feeble excuses here. However, the cold, hard truth is that, as aforementioned, I love sugar, and I don’t particularly love to move. I don’t want to be this kind of mom for Greer. She’s not quite old enough to pick up on habits, but soon she will be, and I need to model healthy habits for her.

Greer, at 13 months, is already much smarter than I am. In fact, she knows I am more what I weigh. The other morning my husband took a picture of Greer and me. Upon looking at the photo, my initial thought was, “I look awful.” I was quick to scrutinize my face, my arms, and my hair. But then I looked a little closer and saw how sweet Greer looked and how genuinely happy we both were in that moment. That’s when I had this earth-rocking epiphany that it’s taken me far too many paragraphs to divulge: Greer, my sweet little baby, doesn’t care what size I wear. She doesn’t care that I haven’t lost these 10 extra pounds. She knows me as mama, the one who plays with her, takes care of her, and protects her. To her, I am strong and funny and comforting. Why, then, am I always so hard on myself? Greer sees the best parts of me, so why can’t I see those same things in myself? Why do I, instead, focus on the outside?

I want to be the mom who laced up her running shoes after a 2 year hiatus and jumped on the treadmill last night. Greer watched and cheered me on as I slowly, painfully, but triumphantly ran 1 mile. It wasn’t pretty, but starting something new rarely is.

It’s amazing how a tiny little person who can’t even speak coherently can teach a “grown-up” so much about life. Greer is undoubtedly shaping me into a better person without even intending to do so, and I owe it to the both of us to be the mom she sees when she looks at me.



A Special Thank you to local mom and guest blogger, Mallory Skidmore.

My name is Mallory and I live in Beavercreek with my husband, Derrik and one year old daughter, Greer. I believe that we are our best selves when we are on vacation, that life should be more like a Hallmark movie, that local restaurants are far superior to chains, that birthdays should be week long celebrations, and that you can never have too many library cards.

One Response to Post Baby Body Revelations

  1. suzannehines June 12, 2017 at 7:28 am #

    Thanks for sharing this! I especially love that line in the last paragraph: “It’s amazing how a tiny person can teach an adult so much about life”. Oh, motherhood! What a wild and eventful ride! You are doing a great job, Mama!

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