...a tummy. That unsightly blubbery bulge you have to suck in every time you wear Lycra.
I know officially we tell people it’s a war scar to be proud of. I bore a child/children. “Pregnancy was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. So I’ll take the stretch marks. I’ll take the sagging boobs. I’ll take the cellulite I can never get rid of,” said Jessica Alba in Self magazine. Sure Jess. And where are those stretch marks and cellulite pray tell? Those? Please!
I love being a mom as much as Jess does but the truth is I would much rather be one without a lower tummy that walks ahead of the rest of me.
My mom was a svelte 48kg with a 23-inch waist line when she married my dad. Then kids happened to her. With each successive child, she kept more of her post-baby weight until she was a 20kg heavier than when she started. I think after that she just thought ‘Screw it’ and gave up.
Now, I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to me. I want to be a yummy mummy – or at least one that looked reasonably palatable.
But 19 months on, I am still looking down at my squishy bits. A desk job and toddler do nothing for your figure, I tell you.
My butt is glued to the chair most days (that’s another body part that is growing its own zip code!). I eat at my desk so I can finish up early to rush home to my son. Dinners are usually after 9pm when the prince has gone to bed. And then it’s bedtime for me too. Which part of this spells weight loss and tight abs?
So I’m resigned to the fact that these bits are here to stay. In fact, I’ve grown quite fond of them. Maybe when the boy goes to college. Then I’ll lipo myself into shape and go on a cruise.
