Santa Can You Hear Me?

"Are we skinny yet?!"

I ask myself this, almost daily. Similar to that whiney/nonstop version of “are we there yet?” that you hear coming from the heathens in the back of your car.

You know the one. It’s like the auditory equivalent of a paper cut to the ear drum.

Anyway, yeah…that’s the tone.

Truth be told, I had three kids in under three years, so this body became the casualty.  I wasn’t a super model going into this, so I wasn’t going to come out looking like one.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be that chick that people are all “Oh my goodness, you’ve had THREE kids?!” as they stare at me in disbelief.

The reality of the situation is that I want to invent a swim parka to wear when I have to take my kids to the public pool.

Damn those little ingrates, can’t they just take one for the team and stay in the knee deep kiddie pool forever?  I’m rethinking the need for those swim lessons, as we speak.

The point of this cautionary tale is to discuss why being a girl sometimes sucks.

Why on earth can I diet and exercise for weeks, only to lose like a pound, yet I can face fuck a Big Mac and gain five? It’s so unfair. I really think jogging, for as long as it takes to scarf down a Big Mac, should undo the damage, don’t you?  In my case a run up a flight of stairs should do the trick.

And if you are thinking “ew Big Macs are so gross”. Then I’m forced to assume one of two things,  #1  that you are a liar or #2 that you are uneducated and didn't go to college and eat them every weekend to cure your hangovers.

I know guys don’t have this problem. All they need to do is consider losing weight and {poof} they wake up, 15 lbs lighter.

Last January I got a bug up my ass and I was ready to finally drop some serious weight, so I enlisted the support of my husband. 4 weeks later he was 16 lbs lighter and I guessed it 5 lbs lighter (you can get the details of my stupidity here).

Regardless, I am fully aware the only way to TRULY lose weight is to eat right and exercise, slow and steady…or some shit like that. But it does not mean that I can’t bitch and whine and cry all the way to the finish line. Especially when I just want to have a large peppermint mocha coffee from Dunkin Donuts and not hear Jillian Michaels in my head bitching at me to “NEVER DRINK YOUR CALORIES” (easy for you to say, bitch who gets paid to be skinny).

So while we embark on the holidays I thought it would be a good time to mention that if you decide to pull out the ol' maternity jeans, just for the sake of being able to eat more....I shall not judge.

Let's raise our glasses (filled to the brim of Baileys on the rocks) and say a big "eff you" to our waistlines and thank the good Lord above for pants with elastic!

Santa can you hear me?

Santa can you hear me?

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