Too Big To Fail

You were lucky. Breastfeeding was the magic bullet that melted you out of those maternity clothes. Three years ago, you spent the holiday season shotgunning leftover Halloween candy through a funnel, with a pile of stuffing in one hand and a stack of Christmas cookies in the other. But none of it mattered. You were feeding 4 times a day and pumping 12 ounces of milk at a time. There was no stopping that metabolism. All your butt-and-thigh baggage got “called up to the majors” for milk production, bestowing upon you the biggest rack you’ll ever boast and a smaller ass than you’d seen since middle school.

But once you shut down the dairy, all the fat your boobs borrowed gradually sank south with a vengeance--and now here you are, taking stock of where the chips (and chocolate) have fallen with your post-nursing figure.Those extra pounds come easy these days and hang on like a bad habit. Your regular workout consists of dead-lifting your 3-year-old onto the monkey bars and sprinting after soccer balls your kids kick into the street--but lately, you've been eating better and actually making an effort. Unfortunately for you, "winter is coming", my friend. And as the holiday food-fest approaches, the following reflections are your pre-game reality check regarding the “new normal” for those birthin’ hips.

This ass is too big for jeans. After a long sweaty summer of yoga capris at the park, the days of denim are finally upon you. But stuffing those haunches into last year’s skinny jeans is like an act of war. The top button is a ticking time bomb that could bust off at any minute and peg some hapless bystander in the forehead, while your over-inflated ass threatens to shred the seams of your pants-seat like Hulk. So you curse whatever waif designed this tapered-leg dungaree dungeon and long for the flattering forgiveness of the “active wear” you’ll be sporting on the couch later tonight.

This ass is too big for jogging. Remember when you tried to start running too soon after your first kid? When your giant nursing-knockers each weighed about 10 pounds a piece and felt like they might rip your rib cage open with every bounce? Well, all that meat (and more) has settled like a pair of rump roasts in your rear. Ya gotta start somewhere, of course--so you vow to persevere. It’ll either get easier--or your butt cheeks will just fall the f*ck off from the cumulative impact and roll away like bowling balls into the woods. Until then, all the junk in your trunk is one part motivation, two parts deterrent.

This ass is too big to fail (and too awesome to feel like a failure). Bottom line--so what if there’s more of you to love? Every stage in life is a process of getting to know the person you’ve become. This body has made magic happen over the past few years and proved to you that it was meant for so much more than pixie pants. There IS more to you than before. More depth. More strength. More purpose. So love yourself. And live a little this holiday season. Be healthy. Be active. Be self-aware. But never be ashamed of this body that made and fed two children. Have goals and set limits. But never limit your self-worth to the measurement of your physical self. Sections of you may be larger than they once were, but you are still the sum of ALL your parts, heart and mind included.

This holiday season may leave you more "hearty" than "healthy"--but as long as you're happy, so be it. There is worse in the world than a little extra weight--and there'll be plenty of dessert to deny yourself in 2017. In the meantime, life is short--and pie is delicious.