For years now we’ve been inundated with articles on the Dad Bod and how sexy it is. And you know, I agree with it. The Dad Bod is hot. A pic of Leo (who’s not a dad, but has the bod) in swim trunks, shaggy hair, smoking a cigarette sends my mind to many many inappropriate places that involves a yacht, champagne and some Baby Blue Movies.

Wikipedia – Baby Blue Movies was a Canadian television series, which aired on Citytv in the 1970s.^[1] First launched as a publicity stunt at a time when Citytv was a little-known upstart independent station broadcasting on Channel 79,^[2] the series aired softcore pornography in a late-night weekend slot.^[3] 

However, for us ladies, nothing on earth could be worse than having a Mom Bod. Gross right? No! WE MADE A HUMAN. That’s f-ing beautiful. We are beautiful! What’s that all about? Those ‘lose the baby weight articles’ that are sent to our inbox a week after the baby is born can suck it. We’re pressured to loose the baby weight starting the day before the baby squeezes it’s way through your most important orpheus, or like me, is surgically removed from your abdomen as your intestines sit on a side table. And while I’m not a proponent of being unhealthily overweight, I am a proponent of giving yourself a break every now and then.

It’s been 7ish months since my little girl came into this world, and I’m still not pre-baby sized. And, I’m not sure I care anymore because I know I’ll get there. It’s only been 7 months and I’ve made great progress. Not to mention that I made her for nearly 10 months. Don’t get me wrong, I’m working at making healthier decisions and getting more active, I’m just not going to shit on myself for my clothes not quite fitting anymore. I made a baby. A beautiful baby. And now, I’m nursing that baby and all day long all I’m thinking about is how I can meet her needs. Not mine. 

Not to mention that I’m stronger now. I’m stronger than I’ve been in years. From carrying my 16 pounder around all day. To lifting her in the air to make her smile. To lugging that damn carseat around. Doing squats while holding her so I can pick up whatever’s on the ground and not to mention the constant going up and down the stairs, my legs and my arms are in better shape now than they were pre-baby. My stomach may still be squishy and I have this weird layer of fat on my neck that had never been there before, but I know this will go away. As long as I’m good to myself and I don’t get down on myself. There’s no sense in getting so down that I eat my feelings. That’s the opposite of what I’d like to happen. 

I want to tell you all that I love this Mom Bod of mine. I love that I can see that my boobs are sagging when they aren’t filled with milk. I love the muscle in my arms I’ve developed from carrying around my labour of love and I love my beautiful legs. I love that my baby uses my squishy belly as a launch pad for jumping and smiles so big as she does it. I can be pretty hard on myself, but not anymore. My body is sexy to me. And whether or not superficial people agree with me, I could care less. I love my body and I look forward to treating it well. 

It’s ok for men to have Dad Bods and it’s ok for us to have Mom Bods. We’re the ones who did all the work anyway.