21/05/2026
I just had to share my client’s words with these images. 🤍….
My body is softer now.
A quiet hill where there used to be a plain,
a tummy that folds when I sit,
gentle as a resting tide.
Once I chased firmness
like it was proof of something.
Now I hold softness
like it is a story.
Silver stretch marks thread my skin,
thin rivers mapping where life once swelled.
They are not cracks—
they are doorways.
Two boys began here.
Two heartbeats drummed beneath these ribs,
two small worlds turning
in the dark warmth of me.
My skin remembers
the stretch of hope,
the pull of growing bones,
the slow miracle of becoming.
And yes—
my belly is rounder,
my hips wider,
my body slower to return
to the girl it once was.
But why should it?
This body was busy
building laughter,
crafting fingers and eyelashes,
carrying the weight of tomorrow.
Now when my sons rest their heads
against my soft middle,
they are leaning
against their first home.
But this body—
this soft stomach,
this loosened skin,
this map of silver lines—
I hesitate.
My brain drifts through fog lately.
I forget words mid-sentence,
why I walked into the kitchen,
where I left pieces of myself.
Sometimes I stand in the hallway
holding a sock,
certain I came here for something
that mattered.
And if my body is softer now,
it is because it learned
how to hold more.
More life.
More tenderness.
More love
than it ever had before.
📷: Sarah made me feel so comfortable and made me want to respect this body more than ever…