I feel a little weird about pregnant tummy shots that show skin.

I’m not really sure why this is, but much of the pregnant/birthing process makes me squirm, blush and get all uncomfortable.

Yeah, I know.

This coming from the woman who can write in horrifying detail about getting her girlie bits slathered and ripped to death with hot wax turns slightly pink at the thought of showing her pregnant tummy. What can I say? I have issues, people. And I know it. (She says, pointing up to that awesome banner that holds the title of this blog.)

Catherine of Her Bad Mother, is about 9.5 months postpartum. (She has THE most adorable baby. I saw him in this darling, brown striped onesie at BlogHer and KNEW I wanted another baby.) She posted a tummy baring photo on her blog and wrote about the struggle lots of us have with our bodies. We love them (or should) but are we ever really satisfied with them? Most of us yo-yo from love to dissatisfaction and back. And there we are; even though we’re always in motion bouncing from one to the other we are still STUCK.

It sucks a duck, yo.

She asked those of us that were insane brave and that were total lemmings wanted to to participate in posting “honest” photos of our tummies and to write about what we thought of our bodies. (There is a more private Flickr group you can post to as well. But, I’m just going to do this here because ya know…it’s ME and I seem to love doing things that freak me out.)

So, here you are:

Me at 27 weeks

I do struggle with body issues, but I am slightly different.  I used to weigh 300 freaking pounds.  I had a gastric bypass and my gallbladder removed in 1995, when I was 20. It was back when they were rarely done and laser surgery was not common, so I have a HUGE scar that runs from my sternum to my belly button.

In case you are wondering? IT HURTS LIKE A MO FO WHEN I AM IN MY LAST TRIMESTER. It gets horribly stretched and tight and throbs a lot.

Attractive, huh? I am fairly confident that this will be quite the cold shower for those who think I’m hot. (You can still love me for my personality and mind, though. Hee.)

Also, I am pretty much built like a boy. I have no hips, no butt, no waist definition and the biggest ribcage on earth. So, I wish I could blame the lack of waist definition on the fact that I am gestating a fetus, but alas, it’s not the case.  It’s why when I had my Magical Boobies surgically reclaimed I told the doctor that I didn’t really care so much about size, but I wanted them to be big enough to give my waist SOME definition.

See those white stretch marks on my hips? That is not from pregnancy. That is from being fat.  I have had them as long as I can remember. They don’t get red or purple when I’m pregnant because my skin was already stretched out from being heavy.  And my stretch marks are only on my hips an very bottom of my abdomen-there aren’t any in the middle, which is usually the case when you have a baby. (The marks you see there aren’t stretch marks, they are from my pajama waist band. Actually, MY HUSBAND’S PAJAMAS. I am too globe like to fit into most things that I own and can’t face shopping at the moment.)

So, I’m ok with my skin actually. It just doesn’t bug me because it looks better than it used to.

I was young when I had the surgery and my body rebounded extraordinarily well. My non-pregnant tummy really isn’t too bad all things considered. I do have the muscle tone of headcheese, but that is due to genetics. (Being a totally lazy slug that HATES working out doesn’t help.)

So honestly, while I may bitch and moan sometimes and REALLY wish I could build muscle without herculean effort, I am pretty damn happy with how I look.

How about you? Feel brave? Want to participate in the Truthiness and Tummies or whatever-you-call-it-thingy-Catherine-came-up-with?  Post a tummy baring photo on your blog and throw a comment on THIS POST.

P.S. Because I’m sure someone doesn’t know and will wonder-that is a tattoo of a ladybug on my tummy. I never thought I would have a tattoo, but I got it in honor of the baby we had that passed away. Matthew, my Little Bug. I had the same design etched on his headstone.

P.P.S. While I am fairly happy with my body I feel the need to add that I am fairly mortified my bathroom mirror is so dirty.

P.P.P.S. And that my outfit is so stellarly hideous.  I am not sure I could have picked a worse color clash if I tried.

P.P.P.S. I guess I just have to be satisfied with what I am wearing and be grateful I am not wearing this. Right?

P.P.P.P.S. And I’m having a pretty good, non-barfy day, so the lame outfit and dirty mirror? Can really just freaking bite me. :)