Hey, y'all. I just wanted to let you know that I'm about to get way behind on the blogging. I feel it coming. I gots to do a play this month. I have about a gazillion words to put in my brain right now, and pregnancy lowers your IQ by 8 points or something, so I'm actually dumber than the last time I did this. Wish me luck. I've really been trying to write every day and think of it as a means of exercise (brain and finger exercise?) since I don't actually exercise anymore. Between the placenta previa I had during my pregnancy and my yoga studio closing down like a bad joke, I haven't been practicing since — oh, May. It's showing.
Early yesterday, I had been feeling pretty good about myself. My normal-person jeans — the skinny ones — finally zip. (And you'd better believe I'm wearing them right now.) Yes, true: there is maybe a little something extra right around the waistband, but that little something extra is an amazing dessert deterrent. There's literally no room for dessert in these pants. And now, I only have five L-Bs left to go! Of course, things will never really be the same, and my diastasis is a-whole-nother story, but does Scarlett appreciate that I sacrificed my body and my looks to give her and her brother life?
You be the judge.
As I was getting out of the shower, Scarlett — who was in the bathroom entertaining Leo (because now with two kids I don't even get to shower alone) — said, "Oh, Mom! Your butt — it's so big and squishy! It's squishy and gooey! You've got a wiggly butt!"
And there you have it, folks. Maybe if I'm lucky, she'll get me a pair of mom jeans for my birthday.
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