There's always going to be "the next hottest trend" trying to sell you on how you can have the best mind blowing, knock your hipster-socks off kind of sex. You know, the good-good kind of get-down. Yet, what is the actual key to having a great sex life? Eating more kale? Practicing vaginal weightlifting? Cultivating perfectly pruned pubes?
My postpartum body was literally bruised and battered. My distracting enormous but adorable baby bump had been deflated and I was left with mush, bruising, swollen ankles and healing from a c-section. I had this sadness for my body. I felt so badly for it with the state it was in, and at the same time was so grateful for what it had done
I'm skinny. Always have been. My ribs show through my skin, too. I'm also healthy. I know that according to society, my body fits the ideal. But I also know that doesn't make me better than anyone else. It doesn't make me immune to criticism, either. Being called too skinny, is just as hurtful as being called too big.
After reading Lisa Bloom's "How to Talk to Little Girls," I put a lot of effort into steering my comments away from children's looks. But a recent article on Slate called "How to Talk to a Woman Without Saying 'Great Boots'" was a reminder that it's not just little girls who need to be told they're worth more than their big blue eyes and stylish attire.
Lately I've been thinking a lot about how people in general (and women themselves) judge each other based on body image. I've read various posts that are saying that Jessica Alba is a horrible role model for new mothers, and is pressuring moms to lose weight fast -- I disagree. Reading statements like that online break my heart, because women and especially moms should play on the same team.