b) Oh god. That vanilla ice cream skin that hung down my postpartum belly six years ago. The fat-skinny skinfolds flapping uncomfortably around my armpits and hips. Matronly wraps over my bathing suit, strategically long sweaters to cover my expanded bum. I don’t want that again, I can’t do that again, especially now that I know what it’s like to look after my body, outside and in.
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