One of my guilty pleasures has always been late night TV. No, no you dirty minded folks out there, I’m not talking “Skin-amax” or anything like that. I just mean your run of the mill syndicated programs that are on in the wee hours of the morning. Between bouts of insomnia and middle of the night bottle feedings, I have become accustomed to tuning in to these programs. Recently while I was mindlessly zoning out to the tv during a 3:00am feeding, a waist trainer commercial caught my attention. The commercial bragged about the waist trainers state of the art design, offered me a second one for free if I ordered in the next 3 minutes and boasted how it would help me get rid of my “Boring Mom Body”. Wait, what?!?
My Boring Mom Body survived waddling like a duck, non stop nausea and uncontrollable gas for nine months while growing a baby. It literally produces milk to feed my child. My Boring Mom Body drags itself out of bed in the middle of the night to soothe my infant and chase monsters out from under my preschooler’s bed.
Yes, I’m not surprised nor ashamed of the fact that this post-child body shape is more stopwatch than hour glass. Or that it would take Spanks made out of military grade material to smooth out all of my lumps and bumps. Sure, I have more lines on my body than a road map and enough cellulite that you’d think my ass was made of cottage cheese. DO I love that look? Hell, no. But would I think about trading my mom status for the perfect body? Not for a damn second.
This Boring Mom Body has a mushy stomach, but it only makes it more comfortable for my children to lay their head when they are sick. It carries two children through the store kicking and screaming in the middle of overtired meltdowns. It crawls on the floor to play jungle animals. It scrunches up on and 1’ x 1’ square of the bed to make room for children and animals when there is a scary thunderstorm.
Now, I’m not saying I wouldn’t love if I woke up tomorrow and had a Victoria’s Secret worthy body. But, I’m realistic. Right now I’m at a point where most of my cardio comes from chasing my daughter around making sure she doesn’t destroy the house or herself or a combination of both. I would love to consistently eat healthy home cooked organic meals. But sometimes the best I can hope for is a bowl of Lucky Charms after everyone has gone to sleep. For now, I’m okay with the fact that the closest I’m going to get to a six pack is the one I pass in the grocery store on my way to the wine aisle.
My Boring Mom Bod is stuck in a weird limbo between not fitting in maternity clothes, but being light years away from my pre-baby outfits. It wiggles and jiggles itself into real clothes on occasion, but much prefers the one size fits all stain-hiding black leggings. It is tired and worn out, but happy and complete.
My hips may never be as narrow as before. My boobs will sure as hell never be described as perky again. But, that’s okay. At the end of the day I really don’t care how the outside world perceives me, because I can guarantee that this Boring Mom Body is all my family needs.