A and Italics

Lucy and Me
this weekend at the Rooster Birthday Party

When first I had my daughter I decided to make it a point to not get all girlie.

Bows, dresses, headbands, pink. PINK EVERYTHING.

I even dressed her mostly in The Chief's green hand-me-downs because it seemed really under-the-radar cool. Like I was more about being practical than prissy and that made me above all the frills. My daughter rocks the frogs and giraffes and so what?

Lucy bought me two bags of baby bows. For the first year of her life Lucy's daughter Betsy never went without one jelled onto her little head.

I said, "I don't know."

Lucy said, "Just try it."

I couldn't get them to stay on for more than an hour.

Chup requested I give it up.

I have this . . . well . . . my dad calls it "squishy", I have this squishy body. A soft, I-just-gave-birth body, full of curves and flesh. The cheeks on my face have come to full bloom, as have the stretch marks on my lower abdomen. I have lasting proof of fertility all over my being and until I stop the breast-feeding, this substance is here to stay. I would tell it to get comfortable, but it already has.

A year of this body. This one. This body that makes me feel (secretly sassy).

And insecure too.

And I don't have to tell you (but I will) that Chupie likes my extra curvies.

Lucy is pregnant.

I've been shopping for this body lately. This one. The one that gets to have voluptuous sizes and generous proportions. I take time to consider each piece I purchase carefully: how will it look draped over all of this? I've never done that before. I guess this body is lucky that way.

Lucy is seventeen weeks. Not showing yet. Petite and pretty and strong, my sister.

I want Ever to always love her body. I want her pronounced cheeks to always entertain the crowds like they do now. I want to always count the rings on her thighs as a delightful pastime. I want her to be her full self, spiritually and physically.

The more I love her, funny enough, the more I love my body for making her.

All the extra of me is for Ever. But maybe not, forever. I don't know.

Isn't that poetic?

What? A Close Up? What? With drool? Don't ask twice . . .

I have started putting bows on Ever.

Lucy is having a boy.

announcing . . . sister in law week:


I am c jane and I had fun writing this post .

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