Sure, it may not be perfect by the media's standards. That's because it is healthy. And mine.
It may not be perfect according to the aesthetic preferences of our culture. For the moment. And really that's driven by the media anyway. See above.
It is perfect because it has grown and nurtured four children. It continues to nurture two. It works hard for them, and for me.
It is perfect because it works. Because I have legs which can walk and arms that can cuddle.
It is perfect because it has stretch marks, and cellulite, and floppy bits, and breasts which are showing their years of use.
It is perfect because when it is done feeding the last child, it will be all mine again.
I need to respect it more, and treat it better, but it is still perfect.
I have chronic back pain and sciatica, which reminds me that my body has carried four babies.
I have a funny foot pain thing going on, which reminds me that I have carried infants and toddlers on my hip for many years.
I have terribly bitten fingernails, which reminds me that I am a parent and a wife, and my first concern is never for myself any more.
I have a perfect body, and I am incredibly grateful.
I'm flogging my blog with Glowless
Come flog along!