“Wildewoman” By Lucius

Let me begin by admitting: I am very honored to be in the body I have right now. I do believe I am fearfully and wonderfully made and that the changes that have occurred are well worth it when I think of my son and how much better a place this world is now that he’s here. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Having said that, I feel like a blob most of the time these days, compared to how I used to feel, physically, pre-baby. I used to feel powerful, beautiful, energetic, like I had a real and unique presence.

I still have and am still all of those things. It just feels like I’m a blob at the same time.

There is a level of grace to be taken in terms of time and what is the appropriate amount needed to return to some shape of my former glory. I was healthier then, hands down. And, even though I do still work out twice a week and even though I haven’t completely gone off the deep end food-wise, my pregnancy and post-partum breastfeeding life have made me blobbier. (Is that a word? It is now …)

And I’m not comfortable with this forever.

Heck, I’m not truly all that comfortable with this right now.

I suppose, at the end of the day, it’s my decision how to feel about how I currently feel. LOL

I actually just wrote that! Oh man, even the brain is all blob now!

What I mean is, it’s my choice to feel content or ashamed. It’s my choice to feel okay with it for now or disgusted with myself. And right now, I’m content. I have no idea how much weight is left to lose, and I don’t own a scale, so I probably won’t know anytime soon. I’m content with that, too. I do know what my pants size is, and I’m satisfied with that as well (I won’t tell you, though, because I don’t want you comparing yourself to me 😉 I do acknowledge the extra rolls leftover from “the bakery,” and I am just going to have to choose to be unbothered by them until I can properly dispose of them somehow. They are stubborn and odd and new to me, but they’re proof that this happened, my dream came true, and my body did what it was made to do. The rolls are the proof, or maybe, the proof is in the pudding. (Is that where that expression came from? A post-partum jelly belly?)

Until then, I do what I can do when I can do it, and I call myself beautiful.

And I have grace on my body in the moments when beauty seems foreign to me.


Her eyes are light and clear
and fearless like Chicago winds in the wintertime
Her hair is never quite in place
and the knees in her jeans have seen better days and she’s no beauty queen but you love her anyways
she’s a wildewoman

Oh she’s gonna find another way back home
it’s written in her blood oh it’s written in her bones
She’s ripping out the pages oh she’s ripping out the pages in your book
She’s gonna find another way back home
it’s written in her blood oh it’s written in her bones
She’ll only be bound by the things she chooses

Her smile is sneaky like a fiery fox
It’s that look that tells you she’s up to no good at all
and she’ll say whatever’s on her mind
They’re unspeakable things and she’ll speak them in vain
and you can’t help but wish you had bolder things to say
She’s a wildewoman


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