The Day Jiggley Wiggley Became My Friend
I wish my stomach didn’t stick out as far as my butt. It’s just never been the same since too much weight gain during pregnancies (50 on my first, 45 on my second) and two difficult c-sections. All I want is my (18 year) old, cute tummy back.
Now, I admit other areas of my body have actually improved since bearing children. Like my bra size. I can now shop in the women’s section as opposed to the girl’s training bra area in Target. But when it comes to my stomach, things just aren’t right down there anymore. In fact, I wondered after delivering my youngest son if the hospital staff had accidentally stolen my old stomach and transplanted it into someone else. They didn’t take it too well when I spouted that accusation out after the anesthesia wore off.
I’m so disgusted by my stomach I feel like I should give it a name that accurately reflects its new status in my life. Something like “Jiggley Wiggley” or “The Abominable Stomach” or “Miss Bigger than Texas.” If I find myself brave enough to squeeze into my “skinny” jeans it squishes together, causing it to look like I have another butt. Great, just what I need—two big butts! I guess I could call my tummy “Butt #2.”
I was feeling very aware of Miss Texas when my tall and skinny friend came to stay with us for three weeks. She’s a size 0 (gag), tall and just all around disgustingly petite. I always wondered who all the clothes at department stores were made for. Well, I found her. It’s my friend.
One night we sat on the couch laughing and enjoying one another.
Suddenly I blurted out, “I’m jealous that you’re so skinny.”
“I’m jealous of your curves,” she said.
What? I was speechless and ready to pee my pants. A skinny-minney was jealous of me?
“Yeah,” she said. “I even had to talk to my boyfriend about it. He said he loves me no matter what I look like.” She told me this as if she were atrocious.
And in that moment my Jiggley Wiggley became my friend. For that entire week I didn’t cringe when I saw it in the mirror. I strutted around my house, proud that I have curves. For way too long I’ve felt awkward in my “mommy” body. I give names to my least favorite parts so that I am forced to laugh, instead of crying hysterically as I attempt to squeeze Booty #2 into my pre-pregnancy shorts. But no more. I’d evolved into a mature woman who loved her body.
This “maturity” lasted for about seven days. Then I went bathing suit shopping.
All it took was one yellow suit, one fitting room and one full-length mirror for the evil Jiggley Wiggley to become my enemy once again. After trying on one suit I fled the store. I decided then that I’d wear jeans all summer. No more swimming for me.
But I had to wonder…even if I lost some weight would I actually love my body and feel good in a swim-suit or would I just continue criticizing myself? As I thought about it I realized that it’s more important for me to accept my curves, as they are today, than it is to lose a few pounds. No matter what size I am, I want to like me. That way whether I slim down or not…I can enjoy being in my own skin.
Like the week I showed pride in my figure. Those were several wonderful days where I felt comfortable being curvy and it made me smile and laugh more. And I want that again. I want to stop obsessing…to exercise when I can fit it in, but not hate myself when I miss a session…I want to enjoy my curves like I once enjoyed my flat chest.
But more than anything I yearn to forget about weight-loss and concentrate on loving my body, as is. I guess, I just want my Jiggley Wiggley to truly be my friend, once and for all. She may be around for a life time, or she may not. I don’t know yet. But I know that she’s here this summer…and just because she is, I don’t want to miss splashing in the pool with my boys because I’m ashamed of her.
© by Nikki Deckon 2007
All rights reserved.
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Nikki Deckon is a freelance writer based out of Oregon.
