Just don’t talk about my body

My body is mine. I know that other people can see it, but seeing is not ownership. Seeing what I look like and knowing what I think and feel are not linked. My body is not a topic for conversation. My body is not the most interesting thing about me, but it can do wonderful things. It can simultaneously hold a toddler and stir a pot. It can walk the dog and push a stroller. It feels sensations and tells me when it has done enough.

So don’t ask me if I am pregnant. What do you hope to gain from it? To make me feel uncomfortable about the perfectly natural thing my body did that made it change? That no matter what I tell myself, I am self-conscious about? To force me to acknowledge that I don’t look “perfect?” To try and force out information that I obviously have chosen not to share? I’m not pregnant, by the way, but you will find out when I am when I choose to tell you.

And don’t suggest that spandex will help. Or that I don’t do sit-ups. I exercise and am in better physical shape than I was before I had a baby. And spandex is uncomfortable. I like to feel at home in my skin and my clothes, not like I’m a sausage.

What will help is for you to not talk about my body. Because it is mine. I take care of it, cover it, and try my very best to love it. It’s mine to share as I will.

So the next person who refers to my “pouch” or asks me in sincerity if I am pregnant is not going to like the end result. Back off. Ask me about what flowers I want to plant this spring or how my child is doing. Ask me my feelings about the weather. Just don’t talk about my body.