This post is not for the faint of heart [stomach] or those with an active imagination. You’ll want to turn them all off before reading this.
I came to the realization today that ever since having a baby, my body is like a collapsable table.
My body parts just fold up into each other. It’s like I could pack my entire self away into a nice, neat square if I needed to. I’m like a human suitcase. Which honestly, is pretty great for travel. Nothing to check! Everything folds over onto itself. And I do mean everything.
Top to bottom, including my bottom.
Yep, my butt can fold now. Like a cloth napkin at the top of my legs.
I don’t know what the hell happened to my muscle composition/skin elasticity/joints/ligaments, but there is a lot more jiggle to my wiggle than there used to be, pre-baby.
Kellan. Just tell Mommy. Did you infuse Mommy’s body with JELL-O when you were in the womb? Did Bill Cosby tell you to do it? Mommy won’t be mad. Just tell me the truth.
And I work out, I might add. Vigorously. Weights, cardio, the whole nine. I eat healthily for the most part, too. So imagine the fold-over-ness of those who don’t.
Babies are like little mini wrecking balls to women’s bodies, knocking organs to opposite sides of the body and rerouting veins. And these wrecking balls have tiny hands wielding magic wands. With a single wave, these wands dissolve muscle to marshmallow. Turn firm to floppy. Morph a six pack into slab of raw pizza dough. Call Pizza Hut, I’m getting hangry.
Now that you’re sufficiently grossed out [which is extremely likely if you’re a dude; props for sticking with it and reading it this far], I’ll quit while I’m totally not ahead.
I’ll just leave you with this: Next time you go to rest your bones in a folding chair, think of me.
I’m going to do you a favor and not draw anything for this one. Pretty sure you’ve got enough alarming mental visuals from reading this to give you nightmares and/or an obsession with birth control for the next ten years.