Gemma Hartley

To be honest, it’s exhausting, and I am ready to shed this pesky baby weight once and for all. I mean that literally.

I want and need to save some room for myself, to know that I am worthy of a place in the world without the label of mother.

We are often so focused on what we say to girls, that we forget the impact our words have on our boys. One flippant mention of my son’s “skinny” figure has turned into a source of unnecessary turmoil for him, and has lead to this difficult but important conversation about body image.

Again and again I refuse to prioritize, refuse to let anything slide, at the expense of my physical and mental health.

At Santa Rosa Christian School, dancing was a gateway drug. The gyrating, the slow romantic swaying...

If you were to walk into my house on any given day, you wouldn’t know that I am an efficient and organized person.

I hate some of the things I see my friends and family post on Facebook.

The real reason I’m worried about sending my kids to school is that I’m going to be alone. For the first time in nearly a decade. And that’s scary.

But I was yet to face the cold, hard fact that my lack of acceptance for my own body, was really a lack of acceptance for all the bodies I had falsely embraced for so long. Could I really love someone else’s ample stomach, when I could not love my own?

My first child’s milestones were elaborately marked, photographed, and celebrated with much fanfare... My third child however? Not so much. His first birthday was a much quieter affair — if it could be called an affair at all.