That is one word us moms don't hear too often. I've got mom hips, a little jiggle to the thighs and leftover gut from my last baby. I wouldn't say I am fat. I would say that what I do have has been repositioned... unfavorably. And I don't think I am alone.
With the rare exception of women like Heidi Klum, Angelina Jolie and the oh so stinking fabulous Kate Middleton, most of us moms have re-proportioned bodies. Whatever beautiful we had pre-baby has now shifted. We've got beauty baggies under our eyes, glamour age spots, and rocking curves. Now, I am not saying that having babies is a bad thing. However, I am saying that--in general--the act of having children is rough on a person's body.
I have come to accept this. What else can a gal do when the shift has become permanent? I run, I yoga and trot after my dog. I keep fit, eat right and cross my fingers that the anti-oxidant fruit of the day I ate is doing a magical pep talk with my innards.
And I started a martial arts class.
Yep. I hit and kick. It's surprising how utterly taxing mixed martial arts is on the body. I discovered muscle in places I had no idea I had muscle (like WHY the heck my boobs were sore was baffling!!! I mean, who knew, right? I thought they were just sagging because gravity is one mean dude.). And yet, besides the painful discovery of my creaking joins and mysteriously appearing muscles, I found my beauty.
Disclaimer: I am thirty four, have two kids and have been married thirteen and a half years... happily so on all counts.
On to the rest of the story. Ahem... Every time I pulled off a good punch or wonderfully executed kick, Mr. Sensei would compliment me with a hearty "Good job!" and "Beautiful!"
You read that right.
My kick was "Beautiful."
Which made me want to kick freaking awesome again and again. Why? I don't think I have heard the word beautiful and my physique spoken together in the same sentence favorably in, oh gees... ages!!! Like I said, I'm okay with the change in my body. I am also okay with feeling like a million bucks even if that means kicking the bleep out of a squashy target.
Most of my body may have slipped a little south over the years, but for one hour a day, twice a week I feel like a super model.
A really short, butt kicking, tired and stressed-out mom... super model.