My body looks like I had a baby.
It's funny, I thought that fact would be a bit more....traumatic. Before this babe, I always had (everybody's favorite) that extra five-ish pounds to lose. Legitimately, not in a Regina George "I really wanna lose 3lbs." sort of way.
And I have to admit, I got pretty lucky. Most of my pregnancy cravings were for fruit, so I didn't gain too much and breastfeeding brought me back to my pre-prego size (not a number to write home about in the first place) in a few weeks. No all-carb diets needed. But daaayummm things have changed. That's right--a TWO syllable damn. That's when you know, (all together now) shit is real.
What the hell is with the hips I now have on my box-y body? My stomach looks...sad. No really, if you look at it just right, I'm pretty sure you could see a saggy sad face in there. And, let us not forget, the crowning glory, le stretchmarks. No, they don't make me feel "womanly empowered" or like a "tiger" or warm and fuzzy or any crap like that. They make me feel like I have stretch marks. They're there. I've got 'em, and anyone who says I should love them, I've got two words for you:
Yeah, things are, shall we say,
So muffin top be damned! I should be doing my ab circuit right now, but I've got a snuggle bunny sleeping on my chest and I have no intention of moving her.
P.S.--ten points and a high five to whoever can finish the quote in the title.