I'm having a little freakout this afternoon. The post baby body is looking really... weird. I've lived life as a closet-zebra for three years. The stretchmarks from the twin pregnancy: it was epic. (I've read somewhere that the more toned your tummy, the more stretchmarks you get. I just had to insert that little tidbit) But they had started healing and I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Then, we decided it was the time to add a third. I kind of expected the stretchmark situation to be ok. Like an accordion? No. I have stretchmarks on top of stretchmarks. And this has all culminated into what I call "the paunch." I'm freaking out because, unlike my butt (which is made purely out of sour cream doughnuts), I'm pretty sure I can just work it off with enough pilates and jogging. The paunch may be here to stay. If you stretch out elastic far enough, it gets to a point where it doesn't bounce back, but just sadly slumps around. This could be my belly. Oh freaking no.
Item #2? Boobs! (I'm pandering to my male audience here... ha! Like I have a male audience...) They used to be LUSHIOUS. Like the only thing I was ever 100% confident about. I had boobs. In middle school, I remember this scrawny kid coming up to me and giving me the whole "your chest is as flat as your back" rhyme. (classy, scrawny kid... I'm sure you grew up to be a real winner) I cried and was self conscious about it from then on. Until... I was bequeathed with a rack! I had to tame it so I didn't look like a "lady of the streets" sometimes! They even recovered after the twins! I was so very ill-prepared for this! The only way to aptly give you a vague idea of what's going on: eggs overeasy nailed to the wall. I may even have to venture into the (gasp!) push up bras! To push up my skin flaps! Please just shoot me now.