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And though, like most women, I might beat myself up over my jeans getting too tight or groan in frustration at the numbers on the scale, I’m never anything but proud of my body in front of my boys, even when I feel the complete opposite inside.
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They see me make healthy food choices but still indulge in my love of baked goods. I tell them how strong my body is, and they see me work out. They see nothing imperfect about it, and that’s beautiful. Right now, it belongs to the woman they admire most. I want to say, “Leave my fat alone!” and run tearfully for the nearest oversized T-shirt (or, like, the nearest liposuction clinic).īut I don’t, because for right now, for these few formative years, my flab is their one and only perception of the female body. (Gaming references always hit home with dudes, no matter what you’re explaining.)Īs much as I’d like to cringe and shrink away when they touch my squishy belly, I let them squeeze my flab between their fingers. When they ask about my stretch marks, I tell them proudly how growing a baby is hard work and they’re like badges I’ve earned. But for the sake of my boys (and my future daughters-in-law), I lie through my teeth and never let them see that I’m anything less than confident about it. I’m dismayed, big-time, by my post-baby body. If I don’t, and their first images of a naked woman are the impossibly perfect physiques in those magazines or those movies, what kind of expectations will they have as adults? More importantly, what woman could ever live up to them? But I’ve never refrained from changing clothes in front of them, leaving the door open when I shower, or nursing my babies without a cover, because I want them to see what a real female body looks like. I don’t lounge around in the buff, and I spend more time saying, “Put on some pants!” than anything else. Those things are looming and will probably start happening much sooner than I’d like.īut before all that happens - before they start to notice pictures of boobs that are as round and firm as cantaloupes, and of taut, airbrushed, dimple-less butts - I’m exposing them to a different kind of female body: mine. I’d love to pretend my kids won’t be curious (I mean, if I had my druthers, a sexual thought wouldn’t even cross their minds until they’re like 25), but I’m well aware that won’t be the case. (I used to live there, so I know the situation.) The oldest and youngest have said multiple times they wished they lived with me, while I try to explain to them that they can’t be too picky about food.I may live with a houseful of boys, but they’re still relatively young, so there are no nudie mags stashed between mattresses, no stealthily accessed porn sites that someone forgot to erase out of the internet history, or anything like that - yet. I hate reading how the kids are hungry and ignored, and waiting for the week to finish so they can come back to their father.
#XHAMSTER GAY DAD TEACHES SON FULL#
While I disagree-because he can talk to the mother, and offer help-if she isn’t getting the mental health treatment she needs, and needs more time off, then my brother should have full custody. I have spoken to my brother about this, and he says there is nothing he can do. I am frustrated because they constantly text me that they are hungry I know they are picky, but their mom has a “there’s food right there” attitude. She doesn’t feed the children-while they aren’t babies anymore, they aren’t teens either. While I am just the aunt, I worry for the children’s wellbeing, as their mother is chronically depressed (treatment with no therapy, for as long as I’ve known, more than 10 years). Worried aunt: My brother is divorced, for two years now, they have 50/50 custody. He constantly makes me feel lesser than and stupid. He does things that upset me and when I call him out, he acts like I’m causing a scene and being a “crazy and annoying girlfriend.” He treats me like a child, when I am in fact two years older AND I pay for everything (he makes more money than I do, by the way) and constantly cater to him. He even does this in front of his friends. He turns everything into an argument and then twists it on me like it’s my fault. We also can’t talk about anything-I love to converse and debate about things for fun, and I also believe in talking out our feelings and compromising to have a healthy relationship. I mean, I’ve got nothing on these other women. I don’t know how he expects me to be perfectly okay after cheating on me and making me feel worthless. We argue because he’s emotionally distant, and after being cheated on multiple times, I need a lot of reassurance from him. Apparently I stress him out and we argue too much.