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Demi also came out to Tayshia Adams last night, and Tayshia offered, “I hate that you feel you have to hide behind such a strong shield and not be who you really want to be.” Obviously, we should be at a place where queer people shouldn’t have to worry about straight people blanching at the notion of same-sex love—but clearly, we’re not, and Demi was justified in being nervous to open up.

The show’s host, Chris Harrison spoke to The Hollywood Reporter about Demi’s storyline and admitted, “I’m not exactly sure how we would have embraced Demi’s situation in year’s past.” He added, “I am not so naïve as to think that dealing with a same-sex relationship is going to be this happy rainbow conversation and all of America is going to rejoice.” But ultimately, Harrison said they’ve “leaned on” the queer producers behind-the-camera to tell the story “properly.”

John Fleenor/ABC via Getty Images

“I felt that I owed it to them and to everybody else in that community to do this right and to make it respectable,” he said. “To tell this story properly in their honor. I leaned on them and we all leaned on them to make sure they felt like this was being fairly and respectfully portrayed.”

In the episode, Demi also opened up to Derek Peth, who she’s been casually seeing on Paradise, about the woman she’s been dating—and still has feelings for—back home. He, too, happily surprised me. He never made any gross or reductive comments, something I always fear in telling straight men that I date women. Instead, he was so purely human in his response, fearing that Demi’s heart was somewhere else, regardless of the gender of that other person.

Peth asked, “How can you both consider that and me simultaneously? And have this be just as meaningful, if not, you know, potentially more?” Any BiP love triangle would’ve begged the same question. Derek’s no hero for treating a queer person like a person, but he did do his part in normalizing queerness on this show.

So far, BiP is nailing Demi’s storyline. However, I have to say I’d be interested to see what the reactions from both male and female contestants would’ve looked like had a man come out as bisexual on the show. Regardless, it’s a start—and I can’t wait for Demi’s girlfriend to show up and burn this heterosexual island to the ground.

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The term “Mommy Makeover” is misleading; there is no single surgery that reconstructs the body of a mother. Instead, with the help of a board-certified plastic surgeon, a woman can customize a series of operations specific to her body. For many women who have breastfed, a Mommy Makeover will mean breast augmentation rather than breast reduction—a less expensive and less invasive surgery. But a Mommy Makeover nearly always includes a tummy tuck, a surgical procedure designed to eliminate the loose skin and excess fat apparent after childbirth.

40 weeks pregnant

pTwo weeks postpartump — Two weeks postpartum

pThree weeks postsurgeryp — Three weeks post-surgery

As anyone still reeling from a cesarean can confirm, abdominal surgery forces a slow, painful recovery—and a tummy tuck is abdominal surgery at its very worst. Part of the procedure involves tightening the abdominal wall by suturing together the musculature. For the first few weeks after my surgery, I could neither lie supine nor stand up straight. My sore body existed in the limbo of the permanent forward-leaning crouch. In the shower, I sat on a library stool, unable to stand fully.

For one week, there were drains and plastic tubes running through my lymphatic system and routed outward into egg-shaped containers I had to empty of blood and fluid daily. There were daily, self-administered shots of Lovenox, a blood-thinner used to prevent post-surgical patients from developing deadly blood clots.

There were compression garments, required for anyone undergoing large-scale skin or fat removal. Patients should expect to wear them for up to six weeks, day and night. For the first few weeks, I couldn’t pick up my children because heavy lifting can impair the healing of the breast and stomach tissue; and the anchor-shaped suture line at the base of my breast is particularly prone to pressure. As someone accustomed to caring for my children and cooking their meals, the concession of forced relaxation felt like imprisonment. I wanted to have my house clean. I wanted quality dinner with my children at night. Most of all, I wanted to pick my toddler up when he came to me, arms outstretched. If you can’t comfort your child when he comes to you in need, are you doing your best as a parent? I hoped that, in the broader sense, the answer to that question was yes.

Like all plastic surgery, the Mommy Makeover—no matter its iteration—comes at a cost. In my case, insurance covered the majority of my surgery, owing to several medical conditions that required attention (severe muscle separation, an umbilical hernia, large breasts that were coverable under my insurance’s necessity provision). That meant that the expenses for which I was responsible were far less than the average woman’s. I paid for medications out-of-pocket, as well as the negotiated rate ($1,000) for a required hospital stay, the result of severe anemia.

pThe author with her kidsp — The author with her kids

But for most women, the cost of a Mommy Makeover hovers around $20,000 for outpatient surgery. Many plastic surgeons can help with financing plans, and certain credit cards like Care Credit and Alphaeon, have 6-, 12-, and 24-month offers at zero percent APR. Still, the surgery is, admittedly, not cheap—and, as is often the case, this brand of empowerment can be prohibitive. Forget, for a moment, the sheer cost, which could easily impoverish a family. Surgery like this, a massive undertaking, requires help in the form of sick leave, childcare assistance, and a partner willing and able to up the ante on domestic duties. Not every household can accommodate these needs; in fact, most cannot.

The hard fought reward? I have reclaimed myself. My weight has not changed (that was never the point), but my body has. The sweatpants that signified my prison are back in the drawer. I’m not consumed with dread when I look in the mirror. Best of all, I can be a fearless, fun mother, which an immeasurable gift. I haven’t started running again yet; most patients aren’t cleared for rigorous exercise until six weeks after surgery. I have dusted off my double-jogger, though, and I hope to take my children, and my new-ish body, out on the pavement again for a 5k in July. The road ahead seems bright.

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