The Promises We Make Our Bodies

Syndicated

We have been through so much together, you and me.

In my much younger days, you were perkier and less lumpy. A fitting end to my giraffe-like legs that were also free of lumps and bumps, veins and baggy parts.

In college, you were made for 501's and not much else. I could eat and eat, once cramming in 11 pizza burgers in the college cafeteria, and you wouldn't change a bit.

When babies came along, you and I spent hours sitting on the couch nursing, burping, and holding sleeping little angels. I appreciated your cushiness, while I may have cursed the lumps and bumps that were taking over.

Little ones love to be read to, which again necessitated hours of sitting. I was thankful that you weren't bony and uncomfortable, even as I realized that you were also no longer firm or perky. Soft, even.

As I approach 50 in a few short years, you and I aren't as close as we once were. When I spend long hours sitting on you, you balk just a bit and send pain shooting out towards my hips. When I attempt to get up from sitting on the floor for more that 5 minutes, you send waves of pain down my right bun, and laugh at me for almost falling down.

The one pair of 501's that I still own seem oddly baggy in the seat.

Dr. Oz says I need to do squats, eat more protein, and buy "butt pads" with special underwear to hold them in. He had a whole special on the other night geared towards the Over 40 Woman.

Ugh.

So all I ask of you, dear Gluteus Maximus, is that we enter this new phase of our lives together in some sort of harmony.

  • I will agree to stop dressing you up in low-rise jeans if you will promise to stop drooping.
  • I promise to skip the polyester pants if you will make an effort to remain somewhat shapely (at least in Spanx).
  • I promise to appreciate the fact that there are muscles under all those lumps and bumps, and will do my best to find them once in a while, either on a hiking trail, a bike, or a long walk. But not running.
  • I will try harder to watch what I eat if you will forgive the occasional Double-Double at In-N-Out.

Can we do it? Can we find peace with each other? Because the way I look at it, we are stuck with each other, you and me. And until medical science comes up with a proper way to transplant butts, that's just the way it will be.

Well, that and the fact that Jennifer Aniston probably won't be willing to give hers up.

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Sherri blogs at Old Tweener, where she writes about parenting and anything else that makes her laugh (or cry) while living in those years between changing diapers and wearing them.

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