crazymama

We got new bedroom furniture. We bought our old set new after we had been living together for a few months…10 years ago. It survived three moves and was looking pretty beat up. As much as I love our new furniture it does have one fatal flaw. There is now a mirror positioned directly above where I have to bend over every morning to get my underwear.

Since having W, I have been studiously avoiding most mirrors while naked. Not only am I still hanging on to 15 pounds to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, but there have been some lovely new additions to my stretch mark farm from the darling fruit of my loins that decided she just couldn’t re-use the stretch marks on her Mama’s belly that her brother gave her.

Add to all of that my birthday on Wednesday where I have now gained one year closer to officially being in my mid-30s, and you get me afraid to face the truth of what I have become. Except now I get to stare at it in the face every morning while in all of my naked glory.  There is nothing more depressing than discovering that you have finally gotten a Mom Ass.

Please don’t comment that my stretch marks are battle scars, service stripes, or any other cute phrase moms use to make themselves feel better about having them. Labeling them any different doesn’t change what they are in my mind. Like my friend Obama said, “You can put lipstick on a pig…” you get the idea.

A friend had once pointed out that she had never felt beautiful until she was admiring her son and realized that the things she found beautiful in him were the things about him that were most like her. At that moment she knew that she was truly beautiful. When she first told me that I admit I rolled my eyes. Her solution seemed all too simple. It also doesn’t help that she is beautiful already.

Then the other day at Walmart someone stopped me in the frozen foods aisle. “What a beautiful little girl you have there,” a grandmotherly type told me. Used to the compliment (she is gorgeous, if I do say so myself), I thanked the woman and was on my way.

Later that week, the receptionist in my doctor’s office exclaimed, “I can’t believe how big W has gotten! And she looks just like you!”

Yeah, you see where this is going. I won’t spell it out for you because I know my readers (all 3 of you) are smart enough to figure it out for yourselves. Besides, I hate heavy handed foreshadowing (*ahem* Twilight). Lets just say I have been feeling better about things lately. Especially since I figured out that W is doomed to have a Mom Ass someday. Ha ha, sweet revenge for those 6 months of waking me up every two hours. Enlightenment rules!