My body is not a badge

It doesn’t have to be a badge,
this current state of my body. 

Sagging breasts
Love handles that remain 
even after months of 
container tracking and work outs 
Dimpling in my hips 
A shelf of skin hanging over 
my c-section scar. 

I see the posts on Instagram. 

The moms who wear their
tiger stripes and body changes as a 
badge of honor. 

To them, the scar is a sign of 
love and sacrifice. 

The sagging boobs 
a testament to 3.5 years of 
breastfeeding without a break. 

The love handles a soft place 
for toddler hands to land. 

The dimples of cellulite 
a sign of growing and stretching 
to create new life. 

I don’t disagree. 
That these marks and changes are beautiful
because 
of the growth they represent
and the life they nurtured 
and continue to nurture. 

But I would counter that they are beautiful
just because. 

That the beauty is inherent, 
not earned, 
even through something as beautiful as 
motherhood. 

If I never grew a child, 
dimpled hips are 
still beautiful. 

Love handles are 
sexy. 

Softness and cellulite and 
taking up space is 
beautiful. 

My body doesn’t have to be a badge. 

Beauty earned by 
caveats and asterisks
about life events and motherhood and age. 

My body can just be beautiful. Period.