Never Fit Again

Destined to never fit again

The tears on my cheeks are heavy and full of melancholy. Nothing fits me anymore. The clothes I’ve owned for years. The things I wore when we were dating. The dress I wore for our wedding, sewn to perfectly fit the body I once had; something I know will never fit me again. Clothes I can’t get myself to say goodbye to because I’m still holding out hope for something I know will never come.

The clothes of the woman you first fell in love with all scattered at my feet because they don’t fit this new body.

A body that brought your two children into this world.

A stomach scared with stretch marks we call my tiger stripes. Each one I can tell apart from each pregnancy.

A body that was once in shape and ‘healthy’, but now recoils at the thought of waking early to exercise.

Every day I whisper to our girls “You are everything”, and those are the truest words to ever leave my lips. The same truth as when I say “I love you”, and so I’ll raise my voice and never stop saying it.

But… I still miss the old me and can’t help but wonder if you do too.

I miss the skinny girl you used to be able to carry in your arms with ease – she’s a woman now.

I miss looking younger than my age – I don’t get carded anymore.

I miss not being tired all the time – though I do really love those midnight kisses and cuddles.

I miss having my body all to myself – but there is nothing more rewarding than our girls tackling me with hugs of unconditional love; even when I’m all touched out.

There are so many things I miss about the old me, yet the thought of losing what I have now, even for a moment, sounds truly awful.

I tell people all the time that we never left our honeymoon faze because we haven’t. We still laugh and play like newlyweds. And you still look at me with that same shine in your eyes that was there on our wedding day. Seeing the way you look at me helps me to feel like my old self.

But then I can’t slip into one of my old dresses for a night on the town, and I’m forced back to the reality of this ‘new me’. When remnants of – what you rightfully dubbed – ‘the before time’ creep up on me, I find myself overwhelmed with emotions I can’t name.

Good and bad all mixed into one, but these tears don’t feel very happy. They’re heavy and burn deep.

But then you, as if you can sense my dire need for reassurance and love, are right beside me with a bouquet of kisses and reassurance. You have this uncanny ability to rescue my drowning smile from within the depths of my low self-esteem.

So, for now, I’ll put back the shed remains of the old me because the way you say ‘I love you’ hasn’t changed and reminds me that I’m still here, despite not looking the same.

The way you look at me makes me want to break every mirror in our home because I want your expression when you see me to be my only reflection.

I desperately want to see myself through your eyes – to see myself through our girl’s eyes.

Because if you all see me the same way I see the three of you, I must be beautiful.

And so I'll say it again.

I love you.

You are everything.