Ashley Graham is one of the most relatable models and public figures out there. After becoming the first-ever plus-size model to be featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated, she has made it her mission to spread the body positivity message. And since Graham is keeping it real in every aspect of her life, she also held nothing back throughout her pregnancies, showing what it really takes to be a mom.
Being a mom to a boy and 2 twins, Graham is spreading a message that every mom has a right to choose whether breastfeeding is right for them, regardless of society’s expectations.
In a recent interview, Graham got candid about the consequences of being pregnant that every woman goes through but prefers to not be too vocal about. The model said she also considered keeping some things to herself, admitting, “Especially with how your body is changing when you’re pregnant, and stretchmarks, and the saggy skin, formula, breastfeeding. Cause there’s also this whole thing with people telling you how to feed your child.”
Ashley proceeded to explain her experience with breastfeeding: “With my first kid, I was like, ’I can only breastfeed! This is the right way!’ Then I had the twins, and I was like, ’I’m not doing this. This is not working here. Both of you want both of these? This is a lot of work.’ So I stopped breastfeeding when they were 5 months, and I gave them the best formula that I could find… And these little guys are so strong and so happy.”
Ultimately, Graham believes it’s up to every mom to decide between formula or breastfeeding based on their personal experience. She drove her point home, saying, “I don’t think we should be telling people how we should be feeding our kids.”
The model then became even more relatable, sharing her physical struggles after giving birth. She said, “Your body just fills up with nutrition, and the baby sucks it out of you. And then the baby comes out and all of a sudden you’re just fully depleted of everything, so your hair falls out, you get acne, I mean, the weight doesn’t come off.”
Graham explained her candidness, saying, “I like to represent myself as someone who’s just happy with who I am. And I had a journey, like, it is a journey, body confidence, being okay with who you are is a journey… I don’t ever want to lie.” And we’re all grateful for the model sharing her experiences with us, as it makes mothers around the world feel seen and heard.
Preview photo credit ashleygraham / Instagram, ashleygraham / Instagram
My neighbor pelted my car with eggs because he claimed it obstructed the view of his Halloween decorations
When sleep-deprived mom Genevieve discovers her car covered in eggs, she thinks it’s a prank — until her smug neighbor Brad admits he did it because her car was ruining the view of his elaborate Halloween display. Furious but too exhausted to argue, Genevieve vows to teach him a lesson.
I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.
My days had become a blur since the twins were born.
Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.
I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.
Then there was Brad.
The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.
And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.
His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.
It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.
I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.
I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.
At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.
This had Brad written all over it.
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