Follow my blog with Bloglovin Follow my blog with Bloglovin
 
When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” WhichWhen I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers' hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.


 is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers' hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.


 
Picture
When I was in high school, a size eight was considered the perfect size for women. I was very slender from ballet, and when I quit, I added a size over the summer and got a lot of attention because of my tiny curves. I don't think I hit a size eight until after my first child was born. I stayed a constant size ten after giving birth to five kids. I generally reached about 190 lbs during my pregnancies... I was not one of those mamas with a perfect orb and a willowy frame.  I was a ripe, red, shiny apple, with long hair that was unmanageable because of pregnancy hormones, but I refused to cut it because it was so long and had taken me years to grow. I was BIG, and had long, stringy hair.