Last night, I wandered into the living room after cleaning up from dinner and announced to Hubby and Avery (aka Little Parrot) that I was putting my feet up because they are the size of Texas.
Hubby: Your ass is the size of Texas too! (snicker snicker)
Avery: Mommy, your ass is the size of Texas! (giggle giggle hysterical giggle)
They both got the stinkeye – although Hubby moreso until he informed Avery that this was NOT something we say to Mommy.
I am fairly happy with the amount of weight I have gained to date – much better than when I was pregnant with Avery. (Do you know that eating a Big Mac and a 20 piece McNugget every day is BAD for you???? Apparently I didn’t at the time…) she writes as she licks the Jamoca Almond Fudge from the Baskin Robbins spoon I’ve been more conscious of what I have been eating, and much more active, Avery makes certain of that.
So less weight is better, right? UNTIL I LOOKED AT MY ASS IN THE MIRROR. Sans clothing, before getting in the shower. Um? HELLO? I don’t have an ass anymore, I have a blob, with cellulite. Why didn’t someone tell me? Maybe it was better to live in ignorance for the last 32 weeks.
Although I haven’t been able to ignore the fact that my thighs are now rubbing together. I can’t see them, but I sure as hell can feel them. It ain’t pretty.
8 months without the elliptical machine has taken its toll.
Is it bad to say that I am already looking forward to a post-pregnancy diet and exercise? I spent 8 months getting back into shape (3 years after Avery was born)…and it’s all gone. All of that hard work – out the window. Of course it’s worth it…in 7short weeks I’ll be holding my bouncing baby boy.
Damn it – I hate when Hubby is right.