My Body Open Day
(A text by Caroline Décoste, written with the help of Mathieu Charlebois and his complex little belly.)
I warn you before we begin the visit: it’s not a recent construction. And since that body gave birth twice, there's been a little water damage, if you know what I mean.
Let's start with the face. As you can see, it is framed by two cheeks that give the impression of a squirrel stocking up. And it also looks like the squirrel sleeps using the second chin as a hammock. It’s a case of “oops, thirties!”
Above the squirrel's snack stash are dark circles. A bit like all around a bath, but all around the eyes. The owner tried to put some cream on, but forgot one in three times, and finally the tube was outdated in the drawer.
Now let's move on to the brisket, dubbed the “all-you-can-eat buffet” for three years. Pay no attention to the mess, or the big black hair on the right nipple: I’ve had no time to pick it up, and we’re in SPM.
Just below (and really close because gravity, huh!), there used to be a navel on tight muscles, but the room is now split in two, with soft rectus on either side. In the middle, a large cushion that can be used as a pillow, a pizza plate holder or a reason to be congratulated for a third child who does not exist. It's a versatile piece!
You'll also notice what positive thinking gurus call “tigress stripes to wear with pride”, but which I prefer to call, foolishly, “my stretch marks”.
Well yes, in my body as a young girl there have been (everyone together!) changes. I don’t particularly like my post-pregnancy body. To find it beautiful and admirable at every second of its existence, worthy of being sculpted in marble for an exhibition at the Louvre or at the Center des arts de Magog, requires the time and energy that the mother here presents prefers to devote to sleep and hide in the toilet to have peace two minutes. Rather than body positivity, I aim for neutrality.
After all, this body serves me on a daily basis, a little off the hook sometimes, especially if I'm on my knees too long because hey we couldn't be twenty years old, but it allows me to get my children to climb on my back, to run (not too fast; a perineum is fragile) in the park and to have fun. This body also contains my brain, an organ that I find “no worse, no worse”. Failing to admire my nipples which always point a little more to the ground, I can at least admire that. And be happy about it.
To be beautiful, some days, is a lot to ask. On those days, not hating each other is already good.
Thank you, body.
[Puts a bucket on his shoulder] [Surprises himself][Makes a little pee start because of the surprise.]