Fat Fox's post highlighted something for me, something I've been struggling with since shortly after Kat was born. This new body of mine does not have nice boobs. I loved my boobs. They were plump and nice and I miss them. These new boobs don't belong to me; they're floppy and badly need the support of a bra at all times, unless they're full of milk, and then they're more like they used to be, but a bra isn't really necessary as I'm probably about to feed Katherine. I don't like them. I certainly don't love them.
As far as body and fat acceptance goes, I'm on board all the way. But I'm seeing the difference between fat and body ACCEPTANCE, and fat and body LOVE. Depending on whether it's personal or political (and so often the personal IS political) acceptance is easier than love. I accept this new body, but I don't love (all of) it. Then again, saying something as silly as "I love this body BUT..." shows the mind/body/spirit split, where there actually isn't a split at all. Either I love myself or I don't, right? Either I accept myself or not. Is self acceptance a zero-sum game? Help me out here. I'm too tired at the moment to tease this out to any kind of rational conclusion.