Pregnancy is the tits

Nineteen weeks pregnant and loving myself sick.

Last week I came across this awesome article written by the fabulous Jess Rudd – that’s right the daughter of Australia’s former PM now Foreign Affairs Minister Kevin ’07 Rudd. Jess, who is pregnant herself, is a published author and has written various columns for an assortment of publications such as Mamamia and Vogue.

This particular article really struck a chord with me and I found myself agreeing with every word. If you’re too lazy to have a read here is a quick summary. Jess discusses how since becoming pregnant her body image has changed for the better. Instead of spending countless moments primping and preening her body until it’s bikini-ready Miss Rudd has embraced her changing body with aplomb.

Here is an excerpt …

I would body brush for about a fortnight beforehand and scrub with about half a kilo of something with the consistency of liquid sandpaper.

Then I would engage in what can only be described as deforestation with the help of my good friends Veet, Nair and Venus.

I would obsess over every ingrown hair, spot on my back, pimple on my chin. Should I put some concealer on that? Maybe if I put giant sunglasses on nobody will notice I have a pimple on my chin. So logical.

I would then marinade in self-tan, paint my toes in a bronze-enhancing nail polish, find a sarong or kaftan to cover up all my hard work and waddle down to the beach or pool wrapped in a towel.

Now for the reveal. Suck gut in. Unwrap towel. Slide into water and hope to God nobody is looking.

Ridiculous, isn’t it?

This time getting bikini ready went something like this. Remove clothes. Apply sunscreen. Put on bikini. Grab hat, towel and thongs. Head for pool.

Eighteen weeks of alpine-white baby bump stuck out and proud from my torso. Blue veins beamed through the paleness of my fresh-out-of-Beijing-winter chest. There was a pimple on my cheek, a skin tag under my arm and a few millimetres of fuzz on my legs.

I’ve never felt more fabulous.

As someone who spends countless hours watching what I eat, moisturising, spray-tanning, exfoliating, de-fuzzing and working out at the gym I can certainly relate. I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with my body and for the first time in my life I’m actually starting to appreciate it and what it can do. Instead of lambasting myself on those days when I just can’t run a step further or despising myself for eating that extra row of Dairy Milk I take pride in the fact that despite its imperfections my body is helping to create a life. That is not only ‘miraculous’ as Jess put it but bloody impressive.

Like Jess this revelation occurred to me when about a week ago I slipped into my own bikini. Instead of the agonising sprint to the water silently wishing I was invisible, I strolled down to the shoreline and sauntered into the ocean without a care in the world. I actually felt proud of my body and didn’t care who was watching. Adding to my boost in confidence was the boost in my chest size. That’s right lovers I now have an impressive pair of breasts. – no longer am I a member of the A-team my boobs actually fill out a bikini top. Another miracle.

Now I’m not going to lie, I still am meticulous about what I eat, work out at least three times a week, apply fake tan, shave my legs and lather myself in moisturiser every day but instead of doing this out of sheer vanity it’s more as a way of saying thank you to my body for the amazing job it is doing.

I’m also starting to realise that one day this little human growing inside of me is going to need a positive role model when it comes to self-worth and body image. If I’m always picking faults with my own body then he/she will start to criticise their own self-worth and body. So I’m making a change – from now on I’m going to mentally pay myself a little compliment each time I look in the mirror and admire my fit, healthy, baby-making body for what it is. I suggest you all do the same.

Maternally yours, Big Boobs McGee.