Battle of the Bulge
My body has turned on me. You would think I could trust it, what, with it being my body and all. It started with my stomach. It made friends with my butt and now they are conspiring against me.
My stomach never forgave me for my two pregnancies. At least that is what I can surmise as it's horrible rebellion occurred in conjuction with the birth of each of my children. Especially my daughter. After my daughter, it turned into an floppy, accordion-like apparatus, with what resembles a road map of Cleveland drawn in stretch marks. I can see how it would hold a little grudge. I can. But I thought we had managed to work through that. I didn't know it had secretly been plotting its revenge. It happened a few weeks ago when I was desperately looking for something clean to wear. I went for my "fat pants" - you know the pants you wear when you are bloated or hit the cookies a little too hard? Fat pants. I pulled them on...well, sort-of. They sort of dragged when they got to hip level. I didn't pay it much attention until....the zipper resisted. Now that got my attention, but I still found no reason to panic. The button gave me the real trouble. Of course I swung around to check the label to make sure these were, in fact, my "fat pants". They were. GASP! Surely they had shrunken in the dryer. I am not exactly June Cleaver when it comes to laundry. But I was only fooling myself...I knew I air dried my fat pants, precisely so this type of incident would never, ever happen.
Now I knew I had gained a little weight, but to outgrow my fat pants! That was the wake up call I needed. I informed my husband that I was going to start "watching what I eat" - which of course meant he was now watching what he ate as well. The diet went well. Lasted about 4 hours, which I believe is my new record.
My fat pants are now just my pants. I caught a glimpse of my behind in the mirror and realized that my stomach had somehow managed to turn my rear against me as well. Either that or my butt has decided to do a little remodeling and put on an addition. Quite a large one too. That has to be some sort of code violation back there. I would turn it in, but I don't want to provoke it. I can't afford to keep replacing my fat pants.
So now, my main objective is to lose 8 pounds. The best plan of attack is to watch what I eat and exercise. Hmm. Or I could just focus my energy on keeping my butt and stomach from talking to my thighs. Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.
My stomach never forgave me for my two pregnancies. At least that is what I can surmise as it's horrible rebellion occurred in conjuction with the birth of each of my children. Especially my daughter. After my daughter, it turned into an floppy, accordion-like apparatus, with what resembles a road map of Cleveland drawn in stretch marks. I can see how it would hold a little grudge. I can. But I thought we had managed to work through that. I didn't know it had secretly been plotting its revenge. It happened a few weeks ago when I was desperately looking for something clean to wear. I went for my "fat pants" - you know the pants you wear when you are bloated or hit the cookies a little too hard? Fat pants. I pulled them on...well, sort-of. They sort of dragged when they got to hip level. I didn't pay it much attention until....the zipper resisted. Now that got my attention, but I still found no reason to panic. The button gave me the real trouble. Of course I swung around to check the label to make sure these were, in fact, my "fat pants". They were. GASP! Surely they had shrunken in the dryer. I am not exactly June Cleaver when it comes to laundry. But I was only fooling myself...I knew I air dried my fat pants, precisely so this type of incident would never, ever happen.
Now I knew I had gained a little weight, but to outgrow my fat pants! That was the wake up call I needed. I informed my husband that I was going to start "watching what I eat" - which of course meant he was now watching what he ate as well. The diet went well. Lasted about 4 hours, which I believe is my new record.
My fat pants are now just my pants. I caught a glimpse of my behind in the mirror and realized that my stomach had somehow managed to turn my rear against me as well. Either that or my butt has decided to do a little remodeling and put on an addition. Quite a large one too. That has to be some sort of code violation back there. I would turn it in, but I don't want to provoke it. I can't afford to keep replacing my fat pants.
So now, my main objective is to lose 8 pounds. The best plan of attack is to watch what I eat and exercise. Hmm. Or I could just focus my energy on keeping my butt and stomach from talking to my thighs. Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.
posted @7:44 PM
6 Comments:
OMG! I feel your pain! My body has not been the same after my 2nd child. I sure hope there is some hope in the future!
Try having those issues sans childbirth. :o(
You are too funny!
I look back at old photos from before we had children and think "Who is that cute, slim young thing in the photo?"
You know, it;s amazing how insecure we are about looking good before we start looking really bad.
And I'm a man!
I've put a stone and a half on just staying at home with the kids.
After a ten-pound baby, my girlfriend's tummy has acquired the texture of an elephant's scrotum. I reassure how much I love her and pretend not to notice, but she disappears beneath the duvet...
One of the many trails of parenthood...
Nappy:
an elephant's scrotum. I have never heard it described as such before...but it is painfully accurate! Love your blog.
Oh boy... I am relating after only birthing one child!
Surfed in on BE... nice place you've got here!
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