Ok, so is it just me or does anybody else love their post-pregnancy belly stretch marks? I must admit, I often find scars beautiful in their abstract splats of purples and reds. And oh the stories they tell! Lunging towards a piping hot pan of freshly baked pizza, defense during inter-house basketball finals, chickenpox, swimming sans sunscreen under a middle-eastern summer sun, depression – but mostly, I just enjoy the unexpected art in an empty canvas of skin.

Despite panic stricken third trimester forums, I decided to stop smelling like cocoa butter and set my belly free. Now 6 months post-partum, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to waddle around large than life, with life (perhaps this is the kind of amnesia that results in a second offspring). But I still find myself copping a feel of the belly that was, and run my fingers across the rings of time. And like the rings of a tree, I feel they speak my age.  It helps reality sink in, lets me know I’ve entered a  new phase of life, brought a baby into this world and have scars to show for it. Although I miss the taut spheroid that housed my Nibbles last year, I’ve grown into the loose folds that remain.

Wonder if this excitement will hold for post-lactation breasts once Nibbles is weaned…