Divine Feminine, Divine Curse
Sweet Body, Sweet Breasts — Why Have You Forsaken Me?
Failed birth. Failed breastfeeding. Failed female body.
Cow Pose
My full breasts throbbed as I lay flat on my stomach for the first time in nine months. Facedown, I readied myself for Upward Facing Dog. Although with milk seeping through my shirt, I felt more like a cow. In more ways than one, I felt like a cow.
So here I was, trying to “get my body back” after childbirth. Culture (and my mom) dictate I should. “So-and-so only gained 15 pounds,” she’d often remind me while still pregnant. I’d failed the first test of motherhood, and my child wasn’t even born yet. So much anxiety stemmed from the doctor’s office weigh-ins that I stepped on the scale backward to prevent seeing the growing number. I remember a thin woman chiding once, “I always think it’s funny when a mom tells me she’s got some baby weight to lose. Then her 5-year-old comes walking in the room.” Ah, the unforgivable female sin of unsightly weight gain, no matter the reason or season.
I glanced around the yoga studio. Surrounded by people, I felt all alone.
The college girls beside me, when their time came, would have the same rude awakening I did. The dirty little secrets…
