I saw an article the other day about a mother no longer loving her body.
She said that now when she looks in the mirror all she can do is turn away.
At the end of the article, she realized how much she did, in fact, love herself and the extra fat around her stomach.
She proceeded to say that all the mothers who read the post should share it, to brighten up another mother's day.
So I shared it and smiled.
But then I frowned because I realized how much I really didn't agree with what she said.
I would not trade my son for all the skinny waists in the world, let's just get that out there.
I would, however, trade this lump of nerveless fat that hangs just above the button on my jeans.
So much so that when I decide.
" Today is the day! I am going to put on some actual pants!" I look in the mirror and decide today is a good day for leggings.
I live and dream in endless cycles of cotton stretchy pants.
I will also trade these saggy boobs, for one's twice the size and perkier.
I'm talking Playboy Bunny knockers.
Maybe not that extreme, but definitely for some perky ones.
I want to wake up in the morning with the energy of a thousand suns,
March into the living room and pop in an exercise tape.
Most days I can barely pull myself out of bed.
But when I do get up.
I look down and see the millions of jeans spilling from the drawer and remind myself that one day I might have the courage to wear them.