I had a baby, she is so cute and calm and I don't know what to do with a baby who actually eats and sleeps, it's so easy and I know the other shoe will drop someday, but holy do I know to enjoy it now. So I am. Enjoying every piece of her, minus the recent cold she picked up, which is so sad and pitiful, but still she is as sweet as a cupcake. I admit to having got a little too comfortable with the reclusive lifestyle. We had to quit a lot of Miss Thang's activities while I was on bed rest, and she didn't seem to mind, and neither did I. Then I had a baby, and sweet or no, newborns are tricky to trot around on a whim, they require much accoutrement, including your naked top half of a recently-savaged body, which, while great for some people out in public, I prefer in the privacy of my incredibly messy home. Where I don't have to wear a fucking Hooter Hider, because yes, that exists.
Going out means the schedule gets disrupted, and I LOOOOOVE our schedule, deeply, with all of my being. I know when my Cupcake is going to eat and sleep, and I can go through four diapers at a time if she continues pooping after I change her once. I know which books Miss Thang likes to read, I know which TV shows she likes to watch (because all of my ideas about progressive parenting and very limited screen time went out the window like a caged bird the second I had another baby, shout-out to you, Sesame Street, and your hour-long episodes!) and I like walking around with my muffin top holding my Cucpake, encouraging Miss Thang to PAINT MORE PICTURES OF RAPUNZEL LANTERNS! (read: watercolor splotches.) while I graze on avacados and embarassing amounts of pepperoni because Cupcake happens to disagree with all things dairy, so I am now dairy-free and that has led to a vegan diet plus lots of meat.
Someday maybe I will write the post about my re-occuring dream about eating pizza, full of its cheese-y, dairy deliciousness, and feeling wretchedly guilty about it.
But, inevitably, the real world demands your presence in the form of birthday parties and preschool end-of-the-year (say WHAT?!) potlucks. And so I have attempted, a few times, to become somewhat presentable. Not to the extent of shaving my legs, or anything like that,
but I caved and bought a control-top something-or-other for the first time, just because the muffin top is still kind of extreme, for which I am not apologetic but self-conscious anyway and I gave it a whirl today. The stuffing the sausage dance to get the thing on was horrifying enough, the result was kind of what I was hoping for, right up until I sat down and the whole thing rolled down to create some sort of muffin top enhancer belt. Purpose: utterly defeated.
My question is this, why why why do those things exist? You can have a smooth belly assuming you don't sit down or walk too much? How is this different from a corset? I did kind of feel like I was going to faint. Verdict = never again. I just won't ever leave the house again ever, and that suits the hermit version of me just a little too well. Send wine and possibly a muumuu.
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