…chances are, she will think about her muffin top.
I LOVE my days off work when I get to spend the whole entire day with my little guy. After we look semi-decent, which in my new-mom manual is defined as one shower better than homeless, we venture out for our once daily field trip.
I could tell Gus was no longer considering watching the grocery store produce getting sprayed with the mist extremely adventurous. To keep life exciting, we headed to a nearby café to sit outside. Even though it’s not a chain dining establishment, it’s still cookie cutter to suburban America…you know, one of those places where heavily made-up women wearing Lululemon go to eat kale.
I strolled in with my 4 month old initially to eat pasta, but as we blew spit bubbles at each other in line, I noticed I was the only one whose pants were probably unbuttoned. Fine, fine. Scratch the pasta. I opted to pay $7 for a beet and carrot juice blend. My baby and I sat outside to enjoy the nice weather as I sipped, and as I checked out some of these women, it reminded me that I, too, am an owner of overpriced yoga pants. Unfortunately, they are fitting a little differently post baby.
Since my little guy was more interested in looking at the wheat grass patrons than having another high-pitched conversation with me, I was left to my own thoughts:
I can’t quite fit in my work out pants.
I should buy a bigger size.
No, they’re just kind of tight. Just kind of.
I hope this chunk in my drink is a seed.
I need to figure out how to look like Giselle in the next few months. No, Alessandra. No, Adrianna.
I have a gym membership, but…buuuuut. Buuuuut. Dozens of my friends have tried those Beach Body workouts. Are those really effective? Does anyone feel like an idiot doing them in the living room?
On our way out, I gathered up our array of baby luggage spread across the table and admitted to my wallet that Popeye’s Secret was a so-so juice concoction not worth a Hamilton…but a beautiful, full sugar and gluten filled muffin would be! We made a detour to grab a chocolate chip muffin I’d been eyeing. It turned out to have imposter RAISINS, not. Chocolate. Chips. The ultimate culinary deception. Gus and I agreed it was a terrible outing.
Be on the lookout for my too tight Lululemon on eBay soon, because next time we are getting doughnuts, and I’m airbrushing on a 6-pack this summer.