I do not accept this.

I’m losing my butt.

 

People, I am LOSING my butt.

 

When deciding to get pregnant, I knew things were going to be different. I had a period of mourning for my figure, and knew it would be a long time before I saw it again. Before Adam and I decided 100% yes on the babies-now agenda, I made him promise that once I was done being pregnant for the rest of my life, I could at least get my boobs put back where he found them. I had accepted that things were going to get bigger, and that some things were going to get weird. But I didn’t think that every part of my body would declare mutiny on myself and all decide to go in the opposite direction of good.

 

My butt has always been there for me, always made me feel good. It always filled out my jeans and looked cute in shorts and no matter how “meh” I was about my overall bod at any given moment, I knew I could count on my butt. I am pretty sure it is one of the main reasons I was able to trick Adam into marrying me.

 

And now it’s leaving me.

 

Cheetos and the Notebook on DVD for the next week and a crate of Kleenex. I’ll miss you, friend.

 

 

 

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