The one who ended up not hating her belly

I stood in front of the mirror, my top raised above my belly, fully focused on the little hill-like shape rising above the waist band of my jeans. It didn’t look like the bead rising and just starting to spill over the top of the pan, but it really looked like a little hill. It wasn’t soft but tight.

OK, enough of this.

I drop the top and I look the rest of myself up and down. I like the jeans, they look really nice around my hips and my legs look super long thanks to the flair that starts above the knees. The top is ok - it has shorter sleeves and it falls just over the top of my pants, except the little hill top under it is raising it up. That hill top always annoys me - I wish it wasn’t there.

Enough, let’s just go find dad.

He and mom are sitting outside drinking their God knows what coffee of the day - I really don’t get the obsession with coffee, it tastes vile.

I’m leaving.

Mom looks me up and down.

I told you those jeans will look good on you. You have no hips, you have to wear something that doesn’t bunch at your crotch.

You did mom - I like them.

Our beautiful child, says my father with a smile and that is all I need to hear so I turn and walk away yelling - Cao!

This is a little ritual we do every time I leave the house. I find my dad and once he gives me thumbs up, I leave. Of course he doesn’t know he is giving me thumbs up, but he is. He is what is keeping me together as my body is changing. I can only trust his opinions, even if it all started with my mom.

I was grumpy and avoided food for a few days because of the little hill. When I wore a tight shirt to school like all the other girls, I was the only one who didn’t have a flat belly. So my belly had to go, because I was obviously fat.

So I was trying to eat less, but as someone who loves food I sucked at it and was constantly failing and grumpy. My mom must have noticed something was up and so one day as I walked in from school she was there at the kitchen table with shoe boxes full of photo albums and photos.

Come over to see this. She held up the picture.

I used to think I was so fat here, but really I was so tiny. And my stomach was so small, but I thought it was so big. It definitely got bigger after I had you guys and everything else happened.

In the photo, my mom was standing on a bridge looking absolutely stunning.

Mama you look so pretty. You are not fat and with this kind of pants I can’t see a stomach.

But I believed I was fat and at that time I didn’t like that picture. Only years later was I able to see myself clearly. She caressed my hair and looked directly in my eyes.

Our eyes sometimes lie to us. But I see you are like me. Your belly is like mine, growing with your boobs. I guess that is how our body is - we don’t have a beautiful body.

I felt anger rising in my chest like a flame as I looked at her. What the heck was she talking about - she was stunning. Yes, she did have a belly, but she looked great - all of her parts went together so well, even her belly suited her. I mean it was all a bit loose but I guess that is normal after you have kids and you age.

Then a wave of sadness washed over me. She still didn’t see herself clearly.

Later as I was changing my clothes, I stepped in front of my half length mirror and I looked at myself. There was definitely a belly there.

But what if my belly didn’t look bad? What if my eyes were lying to me?

I went on to do my homework and on with life, forgetting everything about that day until a month later my aunt came to visit and brought me a shirt as a gift.

Of course she wanted me to put it on to see how it looked and I really didn’t want to. It was obviously a tight shirt, but then again I couldn’t be rude.

The shirt was not just skin tight but it was also short. I walked out of my room with tears in my eyes - other girls would look super cute in this. Stupid big stomach.

My mom and aunt looked at each other not knowing what to say. My dad looked me up and down. That shirt is not made for my beautiful son. (Balkan dads call their daughters “son” a lot!) He looked at the two of them as they started saying how that is the fashion but he cut them off.

I don’t know anything about fashion, but I can see doesn’t like it and if she doesn’t like it then it is not made for her.

I returned the shirt to my aunt and she mumbled something about my dad being wrong - I can wear fashionable things.

Later I will learn that she was right - I can wear whatever I like with all the belly fat, but at that moment in time when I believed my belly was big and I didn’t like it, my dads words gave me permission to wear the clothing I felt comfortable in.

Ever since that day I’ve seeked my dad to get his opinion on my clothing - he has become the eyes that could see me clearly as mine were not clear, and interestingly over time, as I kept wearing the clothing my dad “approved” I felt more and more comfortable in my body. If he said it looked good then I decided to believe him and to show up as someone who looked good. With time this is how I just started showing up.

One day as I was walking though the town's open market I saw an amazing red skirt with ruffles around the knees. I tried it on and my dad said it looked great so we bought it and since none of the stalls had a mirror I couldn’t wait to get home and try it on.

But once I did I sunk - my belly is on display - the horror.

How did my dad fail?!

I came out of my room, tears rolling down my cheeks and my dad looked confused. I was mad at him and my mom looked at him disapprovingly too.

How could you let her buy something like this - look at her stomach.

My dad shrugged.

She looked great and she was so happy in the skirt - what does the stomach have to do with it?

I stomped back to my room.

But I was no longer mad. I realised that my dad didn’t really look at my clothes ever, he had always looked at me as a whole. If I was satisfied he approved.

What do I do now?

Who can I trust now?

After few days of feeling lost, I realised that even if I was dwelling on the skirt and not quite sure who to listen to, I wore the clothes my dad “approved of” with confidence, but really, it was the clothes I felt comfortable in from the start - as my dad had only approved of the clothes I was already ok with.

So, I can trust myself?

But what about the red skirt? I loved that skirt before I saw my stomach in it, but with my stomach on display for all to see like that - can I really wear it?

I remembered how my mom still couldn’t see herself clearly and maybe the skirt was fine and I just couldn’t see myself clearly?

Hmmmm…..

I dared to put that skirt on when a bunch of us went out for coffee. Obviously I was not drinking coffee - my stomach hated it, but it was a perfect time to test my theory - will anyone notice or say anything about my stomach?

Turns out I was the only person who taught my stomach my huge - my friends loved my skirt and nobody commented about my belly.

I felt giddy and I wore that skirt sooo many times after that, and even had a boy say that since I am a bit curvy it looked better on me then any other girl - to be clear the only curve I have was my belly! Ha!

This never happened - it is a fictional version of events - I sometimes wonder who I would be today if it all turned out like this, but then I remember that I wouldn’t me me now and wouldn’t have this life I like.

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