Dear Me,
We need to talk. I need to get a few things off my chest (other than the boobs the years and babies have stolen). We need a meeting of the minds. A sort of come to Jesus meeting. Just stay with me here a few minutes.
We are 35. Brain and body, heart, and possibly, soul. I’m really not sure about that part, like you know, was I in existance somewhere before I entered this body, because I know I will be when I leave it behind, but aside from that conundrum, 35 sums it up pretty well. And I want to like being 35. Really get into the fact that I’ve made it this far, and hopefully, have at least that many more years to go. But you keep reminding me that 35 is not 28, or 25, or 20. It especially ain’t 18. 35 can’t be those ages. It’s 35. And I know that it’s aging. My hair will get grays. Maybe totally one day. If I’m lucky enough to live that long. And that my body will not, and can not remain that of a 20 year old, no matter how many hours I devote to the blasted gym, or how few calories I comsume. And unless I want to turn out like that freak Joan Rivers, I am going to get wrinkles. All over eventually.
At 35, we have some saggy bum. Not bad, could be worse, but it is. I had to get that panty girdle thing to wear that evening gown to the Oscar party, and you made me feel like I was 87, and weighed 402 pounds. That’s just not fair. I wear 8s and 10s dammit, and ought to feel great about it. That’s pretty good for 35 and 3 children and very very little time to devote to your vanity streak. Just when am I going to work out and prepare special calorie/carb/transfatty friendly meals for just me that no one else in our house will eat, when the children are with us all day, every day? What, should I get up at 3 am each day? Huh? We should be grateful they make those body shaper things. Our dress looked much better without the normal bulges. And they are. Normal. Even smaller and less unsightly than many other’s bulges. Why can’t you just be happy with what we have? Have you not read Very Mom’s opinion on her body image, and how great she feels to be the size she is? What is wrong with you?!?
You’ve got to look at the bigger picture. You must understand the nature and seasons of life. You have to stop comparing me to the Hollywood celebs that have personal trainers, personal chefs, and personal lipo and personal silicone. I am not that person. Can’t say I don’t ever wish I were, but get real here. I have carried, given birth to, and nourished 3 people on this planet. My stretch marks should be considered badges of honor. My somewhat decreased bra size a medal of valor. That soft pooch that won’t quite get tamed into my jeans an award of bravest of the brave. And you have the nerve to mock me in the mirror, and make me feel sad, saggy and old. Turned out to pasture. Undesirable to my husband. Well. let. me. just. tell. you. He likes me, no, thinks I’m hot, just the way I am. Extra soft, extra weight, baby got more back, whatever. So you can just shut. up. And you know what else? My baby boy says I’m so pretty nearly 14 times a day, and smothers me with hugs and kisses. So take that and stick up your size 2 *&%@#*. Now, I’m sticking out my tongue at you.
Just because the world of fashion would have us think that anything north of a size 8 is a plus size doesn’t make it reality. Hell, what else is actually real about the world of fashion? Who’s really going to wear this get up? Or this? (Well, maybe if I looked like her, I’d consider it) So why do you buy their version of beauty and size? You certainly have enough sense to know fashion week is a bunch of whooie, bearing no relation to reality whatsoever.
So. Point? I need you to be accomodating to me and the seasons my life is going to go through. And know that you cannot be 20 forever. It is impossible, and frankly, undesirable. Fine. We can exercise some. Work to fit a few walks a week in. Be reasonable about what we eat, and drink. I know. Wine slows down the metabolism and is empty calories. Well. That’s really a matter of opinion, empty, now isn’t it. One day, the reproductive factory will shut down totally. If you haven’t dealt with what’s happened so far, how will you handle that? You. are. not. going. to. stay. the. young. girl. Face it. You haven’t been the young girl in like, 15 years or more. Get over it. Move on. Help me embrace who and what we are now. Enjoy the miracle of having the children, and be glad you were able to perform that privilege. Stop your bitching and be glad. There must be some truth in you’re only as old as you feel. So if you’ll just shut up, I think I’ll be good. Really good. Because somewhere in here, I still think I’m a kid. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Get on board.
Sincerely,
Me
