See that pic on the left? That was me, at the same weight and body era as the one on the right, sucked in and flexed.
I’ve spent time talking about my journey with body shame and the “stories” I tell myself about my body I’ve had to rewrite. I’ve also spent time just talking to friends about my “mommy makeover” surgery I had.
But what I haven’t talked about in detail is the inner journey I had to go through so that I was in a headspace to do that surgery and be glad I did.
This post isn’t about the surgeries themselves, but everything: the emotions, the trauma, the healing, the spiritual work, the pain, and the beauty that came from choosing myself in this way.
Recently, I was on a call with some incredible women. We started talking about life, work, and purpose—and somehow, the conversation shifted to plastic surgery. One of the women, who had her breasts done a year ago, admitted she still wore a big sweatshirt to cover herself up. Then she looked at me and said, “It sounds like a lot of what you do is inner work. Like therapy… and then style.”
And I just nodded because YES—that’s exactly it!! I help women come back home to themselves. I help them feel radiant, confident, expressed, and free—and then we dress that woman. We style her. But it all starts within.
That convo reminded me how often women ask me about my own journey with body image, weight, stretch marks, surgeries, and all the layers beneath it. So here we go! This is the whole story. Buckle in. This one’s honest, raw, and so real.
Want to watch the LIVE video this blog post is made from? Click below.
My History with Body Shame
I’ve struggled with body shame for as long as I can remember. Even when I was 16—athletic, fit, and tiny—I was hyper-aware of my body. I was a runner. I had a flat tummy, strong legs, defined muscles—and yet, I was constantly adjusting my clothes, worrying about what I looked like, feeling uncomfortable in my skin.
I remember standing in front of the mirror in my running shorts, and I was more insecure then than I was years later, after having babies. Isn’t that wild?! That even at my smallest and most “ideal” physique, I was deeply self-conscious??
Fast-forward through years of womanhood, motherhood, trauma, religion, and relationships—and my body evolved. I had two babies in my 20s with my first husband. I carried extra weight, about 30 pounds more than I felt good at. My BMI was too high. I was never huge, but I didn’t feel like me.
After I left my marriage and began healing emotionally, mentally, and spiritually—I started shedding weight. Not from dieting. Not from punishment. But from freedom. I was walking more. I was eating more intuitively. But the shift? It felt metaphysical. Emotional. Spiritual. I felt lighter because I was lighter!!
Then I met and fell in love with my now-husband. For the first few years of our marriage, we lived long-distance because of custody agreements. It was hard. But beautiful. We built our relationship slowly and intentionally. I stayed fit. Lean. I felt good.
But then came the decision to have another baby together. And I was terrified.
Pregnancy Fears and Trauma
My first two pregnancies were rough. Physically painful. Emotionally draining. And I hadn’t yet healed my relationship with my body, so the idea of gaining weight again felt terrifying.
And I was right—it did affect me deeply.
Even though I ate well and moved my body, I gained more weight during my third pregnancy than I ever had. My body landed at the same highest weight it did with my previous pregnancies. And after he was born, I was lost.
We had just moved states. I had quit my job to stay home. We were finally living together full-time after years of long distance. I had a beautiful baby. A new home. A new life. And I felt… unhappy.
I loved my family, but I hated my body. I didn’t feel at home in it. I didn’t feel like myself.
Control and Fasting
That’s when I went into overdrive. Control mode. I began intermittent fasting and quickly pushed it to the extreme—only eating one meal a day!!! My stomach had shrunk, so I couldn’t even consume enough calories or nutrients in that window. I was over-exercising on top of it.
My body started to suffer. I lost so much hair. I was exhausted. My hormones were tanking. My adrenals were fried. I wasn’t nourishing myself—I was punishing myself.
And yet, the weight came off. And I was still left with loose, stretched out skin. My “fanny pack.”
I used to sit in the bathtub and lift that skin in both hands, jiggling it like a separate entity. Even at my thinnest, it didn’t go away. It was stretched-out skin. Tissue. Scarred. I used to say it looked like I had been through a cheese grater!!! I could barely wear pants comfortably. My clothes didn’t fit right. My boobs were sooo droopy and I compared them to stretched out, deflated balloons. My body felt foreign.
And the worst part? I was deeply ashamed of it. I was embarrassed in front of my husband. I didn’t want him to see it. To touch it. It triggered all my deepest insecurities and internalized beliefs about womanhood, worth, and desirability.
The Emotional Work Before Surgery
What I didn’t realize at the time was how much trauma I was carrying in that part of my body. Below the belly button. That’s where all the shame lived. That’s where I held old stories about what it meant to be a woman, a mother, a partner.
I had to heal spiritually. I started meditating. I worked with therapists, energy healers, coaches. I began connecting to my divine feminine. I let go of the story that God was only masculine. I let go of the story that women were less than. I stopped blaming my body. I began thanking it.
I breathed into the pain. I placed my hands on my stomach and said, “Thank you.”
I acknowledged that this part of my body had carried and birthed three beautiful babies. That it had nourished them. Sustained them. And that was sacred.
I also began opening up to my husband. I let him put his hand on my stomach—and I didn’t cringe. That was huge!!!
Eventually, I felt ready.
The Surgery Experience
I had a full tummy tuck (abdominoplasty), liposuction, and a breast lift with fat grafting.
The tummy tuck involved cutting hip to hip, removing all the loose skin, and sewing my abdominal muscles back together. They stitched the fascia layer so I could regain core strength and support.
The breast lift removed stretched skin and reshaped everything higher. I didn’t want implants at the time, so we transferred fat from my thighs to restore volume.
It was a long surgery—almost 6 hours—and the recovery was BRUTAL!!!
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t go to the bathroom on my own. My husband had to physically lift me in and out of bed.
Two days after surgery, the anesthesia wore off. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hands, crying—but trying not to cry too hard, because crying hurt. Everything hurt. He was panicked and said, “I don’t think this was worth it.”
I looked back at him, trying to hold my tears in, trying just to breathe, and emphatically demanded that “It was ABSOLUTELY worth it!”
Even with the pain, the compression garments, bruising, swelling (oh my gosh—the swelling!!!), I knew this was the right choice. Even my nether regions were swollen beyond recognition (lol, TMI but true). I had no independence for a few weeks. I needed help showering, walking, eating.
I tried to go to Costco in my second week post-op and really paid for that one with bouts of pain later. Pushing that cart around? Horrible idea. Just—don’t.
One time, my dog barked unexpectedly while I was resting, and the sudden gasp I made triggered excruciating pain that lasted for hours.
This is not a minor procedure, my love. It’s not like a c-section. It’s way more invasive. And healing takes months. (You should’ve been there for my first orgasm post surgery – it was scary and so painful from the clenching!)
The Results
Even through all of that, I was so proud.
I saw my post-op photos next to my pre-op ones. I was the same exact weight, but my body looked drastically different! The loose skin was gone. My waist was contoured. My breasts were lifted and reshaped. I felt more like me.
A year later, I chose to get implants. I had lost weight again, and the fat transfer didn’t hold. My breasts were lifted, but they had no volume. I just wanted to feel like myself again—so I chose a natural size and shape that fit my frame.
That second surgery? Way easier. Still painful, but nothing like the tummy tuck. Recovery was smooth. And my results? Beautiful.
Final Thoughts
I love my results!! I love my body! I love the work I did to get here!
And most of all—I love that I waited. I didn’t rush into surgery hoping to fix my self-worth. I healed my relationship with my body first. And then I chose surgery as a supportive practice—not a rescue mission.
That’s what made all the difference.
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My Invitation to You
If you’re holding shame around your stomach, your stretch marks, your weight, or any part of your body—please know you are not alone.
If you’re hiding yourself in your own life—your style, your intimacy, your self-expression—please know it doesn’t have to stay that way.
You can rewrite your story. You can feel beautiful again. You can reclaim your body, your joy, your expression.
And if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Reach out. Message me. Book a call. I’d love to hear your story!!!
Your body is sacred.
Your story is valid.
And you deserve to feel radiant!
Much love,
Maren ❤️
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