Stuck in the Middle

I will share with you a conversation I had with my 3 year old last week as we sat on the couch:

J: “What’s this?” (He pushes his finger into my abdomen and watches the first half [of his finger] disappear as if sinking into a wad of pizza dough.)

Me: “What’s what?”

J: “This.” Now grabbing my stomach with his thumb and forefinger.

Me: “It’s my stomach.” I tell him matter of factly.

J: “Oh, I thought it was your boobies.”

Me: “Nope, stomach.”

That’s great stuff.

Then, Thursday evening I had a function to attend with my husband. I had a dress in my closet that I wore once a year ago and thought would be perfect for the occasion. With no time to waste a half hour before I needed to leave, I don the dress with curlers in my hair. Wouldn’t you know, I can’t zip it. I can’t believe I can’t zip it. I try and try now working up a sweat with hot rollers on my head, working myself into a tizzy. This was honestly the only dress in my closest I could have worn to this function and I had to wear it. Thank god for my babysitter. Between the two of us, we were able to suck me in and pry that zipper up so I could run out the door. I can’t recall in recent history needing another person to help me into my clothes.

First thoughts? I must have gained weight. Ya think???? And wouldn’t you know my boobs showed up after I thought I would never see them again after breast feeding. The evolution of boobs when you breast feed is quite amazing and took 3 ½ years to come to fruition. I honestly thought I was going to be stuck with the deflated balloons I had for a year after I stopped breast feeding but a couple weeks back, my size C’s showed up.

One more thought, I have officially hit an age where I can’t wing it to run out the door and expect to look good. When I was in my 20’s I could wait till almost go time to throw on a dress and some mascara and be good to go. Now? I officially need more time to de-wrinkle (clothes and face), pre-moisturize, conceal, color, powder, post moisturize, volumize, glamorize and squeeze my pizza abs into some lycra death-grip girdle thing so I can zip my damn dress.

When the conversation with J and the dress incident happened in the matter of one week, I thought my BatchaGirl image of myself would be lost forever. Definition of Batchagirl: timelessly sexy. But the key is to still love myself with all of the physical changes the (late) 30’s bring. So it takes a little longer to look good. That is really ok.  I am tickled with my life in its current state at my current age and I hope to keep that positive attitude always. And I have to say the 30’s are a much sexier decade than the 20’s. I know myself so much better. I ask for what I want more (sometimes) because what I want is important. I never did that in my 20’s. I realize that joy and pleasure are of utmost importance in my life and I remind myself to write them into my to-do list. I purposely laugh and smile more and that is timelessly sexy.

So, I am back to the gym to firm up my abs and enjoy fitting into last years jeans. There is no reason to accept a mushy middle as my fate so young in life. I hate every crunch and yoga bicycle with every ounce of my being. They say the thing you avoid doing is the thing you need the most. I understand that, don’t like it but understand. I am trying to embrace the changes I see in my body and my face. But that doesn’t mean that Botox and Juvederm aren’t starting to show up on my Christmas Wish lists. Hey, whatever works!

I have a lot more sexy living to do in my 40’s, 50’s and beyond. I see so many of my gorgeous friends doing it so well. I know (with a little work on my part) it will only get better from here!