Reality

For the first time today, a little over four months after Parks's birth, I donned a pair of regular jeans. Regular, as in non-maternity. Right.

Some of you may be ready to congratulate me, as it's quite a wondrous milestone to be back in one's pre-pregnancy jeans. Those of you, however, don't have all the facts. You see, these aren't my pre-pregnancy jeans. These are jeans that I shamefacedly bought last night at Steinmart. Jeans that are, unfortunately, 3 sizes bigger than those I wore before.

And yet, in spite of the embarrassingly large size, the muffin top effect still exists. You know, the way one's excess flab is squeezed in a pair of too-tight pants so that it billows over the top button, creating a roll the size of the giant weiner on top of the Oscar Meyer mobile. A roll that nothing but a flowy top over a tight camisole can hide, thus limiting my upper body wardrobe, as well. Sigh.

I knew it was time to bite the bullet when I saw Cal smirking at me as I pulled on my maternity jeans yesterday. "What?" I growled at him. He just laughed and shook his head.

Really, though, he should just be glad that I'm wearing anything other than sweatpants, seeing as how I don't leave the house a whole lot. And let me just tell you, ladies-without-kids: once you wear maternity jeans, you will NEVER want to squeeze into your skinny jeans again. Seriously. They're like pajamas, but no one ever knows, as long as you wear tops that are long enough to cover the elastic band at the waist. They are perfectly dreamy.

Anyway, if nothing else, perhaps having this unforgiving waistband digging into my gut will finally motivate me to get some of this baby fat off before it's completely out of control. Starting Monday, I'll be counting those points again.

Then again, our school-year routine won't start back until the next week. Maybe I'll count the points then, instead ...