Birthday suit Bulges

For a change, we had a beautiful warm spring day. It didn't take much persuasion to get the princesses outside and up to their eyeballs in mud, sandpit, bunny fluff and snails. I cast an eye over the horizon and quietly noticed a mountain decked head to toe in snowy overalls. This warm weather may be too good to be true, I thought to myself.

After a little rabbit chasing, snail hunting, tree pruning, shrub transplanting and general activities of the garden variety, I called the troops in for a communal shower. Before I could say "Hop in, ladies!", my little girls were stripped and were performing ABBA in front of my over-size bedroom mirror.

"Do-n't go was-ting your commo-tion!" they crooned, back to back and involved in some very complicated wrist maneuvers.

I slipped off my garden scriubs and made for the shower. T-Bird caught sight of me in the mirror.

"Mom!" she screeched.

I turned, wide-eyed, expecting to find a missing limb, a giant spider or God. None of these things were waiting for me. Just the astonished face of my five year old, and my naked reflection in the mirror behind her. Having my kids standing before me, and seeing myself behind them, the reality of what 25 years can do to your body was clear. I winced. The walk of shame did not end there.

"What's the matter?" I asked the screecher.

"Your skin twirls!" she said, and traced an icy finger down my side, from just under my bra-strap to my waist. "When you bend, you twirl," she seemed pretty delighted with the discovery. "Do it again!"

"Er, I'd rather not, thanks," I was well aware of the fat-roll she was so excited about. I've had my eye on it for about 5 years.

We hopped into the shower, and I was grateful for the water splashing into my children's faces, blinding them from the extreme close-up of me, their mother. I used to have a better body, I thought to myself, and then these little people came along and somehow, in the chaos that ensued, I misplaced that nice bod, and have had to do with this one. And it saddened me to think that my kids will never know what I looked like when I looked better. And I could not have kept that better looking body AND have had kids. I had to sacrifice one for the other. Sigh.

And no, I don't want any advice on exercise and diets, thanks all the same. I choose to wallow in self-pity for a bit. Ta.