Guest Blogger: Model Behaviour

There is one thing no one ever really warns you about regarding motherhood, and that is that it will transform your body forever.

I know models and magazines nowadays will have you believe otherwise. But the truth is their bodies, apart for having been thoroughly pampered with massages and nutritionists, and distinctly tortured through ridiculous diets, harrowing gym sessions, and possibly some liposuction, even those bodies have forever been altered.

Remember the famous photos of Heidi Klum 6 weeks after birth on the Victoria Secret runaway? She looked gorgeous and spectacular, but she did look different, and frankly, I’m not too sure what she was trying to prove. Recently, I could not help but glee at a photo of Kate Moss (Kate Moss no less!) apparently even she gets her double potbelly when casually bending forward on a bikini.

Before you judge, let me first tell you that I have opposed dieting for the better part of my life. Initially I was skinny, as in 177 cm (5 ft 8 inches) high and about 45 kilos (99 pounds) wide. As I approached puberty the women around me began looking at their butts self-consciously. Even the skinny ones started eating salads and skipping lunch. All the while the guys, both in real life and the movies, kept ordering double meatball burgers with cheese.

Then puberty hit me. I still remember the echoing laughter when I asked my siblings if my butt was bigger. Back then the mere thought was hilarious. Well, let me tell you, it was, and it continued getting bigger, and it brought along the thighs to prove a point. My South American genes caught up with me, providing me with a round, perky and rather large butt. I also inherited crap circulation, which translated into cellulite, bruises and spider veins. My model days were over at fifteen.

But to me the matter was simple: society was trying to make us believe that we were all meant to look a certain way. I’m a feminist, and this was not acceptable. Reading Naomi Wolf’s book, On Beauty, (a must read) further strengthened my position; it was ok to exercise and eat healthy, but diet? Never. I equated my skinny friend’s proud remarks of “I never have dessert” to “I never smile so I won’t get wrinkles.” Food was a joy of life that was to be relished.

Then I got pregnant. During the pregnancy I ate healthy and did my yoga, while working full time and catching up on sleep at weekends. My daughter was born and we moved to Cambodia. I was stressed, shocked and lonely, but still managed to go back to yoga and take her on long river walks. Within 6 months I was back to my old not entirely perfect body.

Big sigh as the second unexpected and joyous pregnancy hit me nine months after first one.

I was working again. Running back and forth in an effort to make up for it to my little baby. No diet, no exercise, no sleep. After my son was born I was also for the most part not speaking to my husband, who was too enthralled with his new job to notice I had not slept for more than 4 consecutive hours in over a year. I slept when I could, and the rest of the time survived on chocolate.

It was around my son’s second birthday, and 23 years after my butt initially went all samba on me, that I decided to accept reality: In spite of all my feminist objections, I was not happy with my body. Two years of breastfeeding had done away with my last remaining bastion; the perky breasts. Pregnancy No. 2 had left stretch marks, a pot belly, and an extra eight kilos that made me look like the cartoon female version of the Michelin man; 177cm. of blubber. My body had evened out with my super thighs. Time kept running and all my feminist notions did not help me feel better about myself. I knew time would only continue deteriorating me, so I did what I swore I never would: I dieted.

In my defense, it was a healthy diet written by a nutritionist. I lost some weight (a lot really), then Christmas came and I gained some back. Then I went on a pay-it-forward diet because I knew the holidays to Italy would be mostly about eating, and lost some, and soon enough I was on the yo-yo train along with the better part of female-hood.

Eating mostly vegetables and fruits for my diet meant my kids ate more of those too. Not that they should be on a diet, they are like walking stick men at present, but these are the healthiest thing you can eat, which made me realize that I have a responsibility to model the best behavior for them. And although I’m currently failing miserably, it takes away the romantic notions of living life as a feminist with no cares for society’s rules, and -as most things in motherhood- puts even more pressure on ME.

I think success is mostly about accepting who you really are. So I have to accept that I’m a chocoholic, that to me the idea of never having sweets again is tantamount to a life sentence, but also that I don’t like being overweight.

I’m still working on becoming a healthy adult. Trying to control what seems to be an inherited obsession with chocolate, and looking for a form of exercise that I look forward to instead of dread and fits into my two-jobs-two-kids schedule.

But what worries me most in all this is how my struggles might affect my daughter. I want her to feel good about herself. I want her to be healthy, exercise regularly, eat well, and love her body. And all the while I want her to think that looks are superficial and irrelevant. In short, I want her to be perfect and in total balance.

So the most important part to me is to do it for the right reasons; to find a balance out of love for myself and for my loved ones. Out of respect for my body, my temple, the one that not only gave me my beautiful children, but also the strength to pull off everything that came afterwards.

Angelica used to work as an aid worker & photographer. When bundle #1 came along, she found herself unable to go back to full time work or become a stay at home mom, so she found a third way.  Now she lives in Europe, continues to work for NGOs and the UN on short term assignments, looks after her two monkeys, and takes the occasional photo commission.  She’s currently writing “Crossing the River, a letter to my daughter on becoming a mother.” You can find her blogging on www.onmotherhoodandsanity.blogspot.com about trying to have it all with out going crazy in the process. It’s an ongoing research project.