Giving up on my gut
I have a gut. I suffered through the “My kid is nearly two so I can’t blame her anymore” diet and lost the extra lbs. (They seem to have all come out of my boobs, but that is another story.) The weight is gone but my gut remains. It is a reminder that you can’t put on 30lbs twice in two years and not have that leave a mark…or two…or two hundred. Seriously, my stomach could stand in for a raised-relief map of the Rockies.
My hairdresser recently suggested a simple, daily 5 min abs exercise I could do at home. Do you know what I would do if I had 5 minutes every day? Potty in peace. And I would use the remaining 4 minutes to sip a cappuccino while it was still hot. I sure as hell would not do an abs workout.
However, the embarrassment of the hairdresser intervention made me decide to give it a whirl. I dumped out a basket of toys for the kids and lay down on the play carpet. One rep in my two year old grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up. Apparently she also thought abs exercises were an unsustainable effort.
So I have decided to give up on my gut. I am going to donate the tent dresses to charity. (They weren’t really hiding anything anyway.) I am going to rock a pair of trendy striped leggings and a long, skinny sweater. I will showcase my gut like the Medal of Honor it is. It is proof that I made the ultimate sacrifice (my girlish figure). And for what? To bring two more blonde-headed, blue-eyed princesses into the world. (We don’t have enough of those, right?).
I am going to tell my husband to learn to love it. I’ll take those five minutes each day to give my kids a kiss and tell them that mommy loves them. And if they ever have any doubts, I can refer them right back to the gut. If that isn’t evidence of true love, I don’t know what is.