Ash Andrea

I tried.
I wore the shapewear.
I posed from the right angles.
I drank the greens, did the planks, swallowed the shame.

But under every outfit was a body I didn’t recognize.
And a voice in my head whispering, “This isn’t you.”

Over the last few months, I’ve genuinely put in a conscious effort to repair what’s been wrong with me naturally. I even used to be a certified personal trainer, which was a huge accomplishment for me after struggling with my weight for years. I always believed that with enough determination and discipline, anyone could change their body. I did once, I lost over 100 pounds.

But post-pregnancies, I’m like… yeah, right. My body is just different now.

I tried everything. YouTube tutorials on repairing diastasis recti, avoiding sit-ups and twisting movements that made my abs dome, signing up for the gym again and trying to do what I used to love: weight training, cardio, rowing machines, booty bands, kickbacks, hip thrusts, tension bands, the works. I even started Atkins 40.

I managed to lose a little bit of weight, but then completely stalled out. I couldn’t get below 240 for anything. And the pain after workouts wasn’t the normal sore kind. It was deep, nerve-type pain that lingered for days. Most of all, none of it was fixing the core issue: the split in my abdomen, the sagging skin, or the daily discomfort.

Even Dr. Brent Moelleken, a board-certified plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, says it plainly:

“No amount of exercise can tighten ripped fascia, join separated muscles, or remove loose skin.”

For me, it’s not just about how I look, it’s structural. Two pregnancies, both natural births, left me with diastasis recti and a stomach that quite literally pulls downward. My abs are separated, my posture collapsed, and my spine has never fully recovered. I have multiple slipped discs from my neck down to my lower back, one hip that sits higher than the other, and a shoulder that doesn’t move the way it used to. My boobs and stomach both sag forward, dragging my whole frame down with them.

This is why I'm finally considering surgery.
It’s not vanity, it’s anatomy. My core can’t hold me up the way it’s supposed to anymore.

Somewhere between acceptance and ambition, I realized, this isn’t about chasing perfect.
It’s about finally feeling like myself again.