Let me start by saying that if I looked like Peloton instructor Robin Arzón, I would probably pose nude for social media, too.
But when Arzón, a new mom, shared several images of herself holding her baby, Athena, this week in various states of undress — or, more accurately, no dress at all — it got me and my fellow new mom friends talking about the complicated and sometimes nefarious undercurrents of perfectionism that permeate motherhood and are reinforced on social media.
I had a baby around the same time as Arzón, and I decided to re-create her Instagram post for my close mom friends. We all agreed that although Arzón looks awesome, it would be even more awesome if moms of all different body types started posing like she did. That would go a long way in pushing the public conversation around motherhood and body image closer to reflecting reality. My friends agreed: The vulnerability of moms without perfect bodies has the potential to create a more realistic conversation about body image than Arzón’s post.
Body image and motherhood have always been inextricably linked, often in negative ways. Women give up our bodies for our children. The good news is that in the United States, at least, there’s no longer an inordinate amount of pressure to get our bodies back. But few and far between are the moms who say they’re totally at peace with the many ways motherhood has changed us. These conversations go beyond our bodies. How we look physically after having children is often used as a metaphor to talk about how drastically we’ve changed emotionally, too. Research suggests moms are completely different humans on a cellular level than they were pre-children. They are “rebuilt from the ground up,” author Abigail Tucker says.
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Enter into this confusing time for new mothers the toxicity of social media. We know it’s a double-edged sword for body image, and we know from Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen that its unrealistic portrayals of perfection start permeating our children almost as soon as they log on. As many body-positive posts there are, it feels as if there are dozens more vapid, perfectionist posts from navel-gazing influencers who are financially rewarded for their perfect bodies. Instagram’s own research confirms that.
Share this articleShareThat’s why even well-meaning conversations around body image and motherhood being had through the lens of social media can backfire.
I’m not arguing that Arzón is the villain here. Women can struggle to own their success, and Arzón is, refreshingly, not one of them.
She is one of the most successful self-promoters of her time, rising to the very top of the saturated fitness-influencer world. Her Peloton classes (of which I’m a fan) are geared toward helping women generate and own their power. Arzón posed nude with her baby to promote a children’s book she wrote, “Strong Mama,” to counter the stereotypes of expectant mothers as feeble. It makes me think of some of Beyonce’s extremely explicit music after she became a mom; commentators pointed out she was taking back her identity as desirable.
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What I’m trying to say is, is there a way to celebrate Arzón’s and others’ right to look and feel amazing so shortly after having a baby while also celebrating most other mothers’ imperfect bodies? I would love my daughter to grow up in a world in which a mom whose job description doesn’t require having a six-pack is celebrated on social media for her mom bod, too.
Like so many burdens of becoming a parent, Body-image issues are something unique that mothers are forced to contend with. Short of finding a way for men to carry babies as regularly as women, I’m not sure how to solve this double standard.
But by gifting ourselves fuller acceptance of an imperfect mom bod, could we eventually, perhaps, gift ourselves some much-needed acceptance of not being the perfect mom.
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