Well, I didn't escape two pregnancies without a few signature "tiger stripes" AKA STRETCH MARKS. It's just one of those things...you try to prevent it but then it happens and all you can do is shrug and say "Well, it happens." At first it was really hard for me to accept. Because in most cases, it's PERMANENT. Agh, I hate that freaking word. But you know what? It doesn't fucking matter. Does. Not. Fucking. Matter. It really doesn't look bad when you have sexy toned muscles. Sure, no one will mistake me for a childless 19-year-old next time I'm at the beach (either from the tiger stripes or more likely, from the two screaming children I will have glued to me) but it won't make me look in the mirror and vurp the way my fat does. Lord knows my pickin'-up-men days are LONG GONE too, so all that matters and will ever matter is how I feel. Thirty is comin' to get me this year, so I might as well buy my ticket and get on the train.
Right hip/side
RSS Feed