TO MY KNEES....

Genetics. Sometimes it works in your favor. Sometimes it does not.

My legs: A positive result of strong genes and good gams on both sides.

My nose: A fluke.

My boobs: Well. My boobs....

When I started this blog, (and it had a different name), I shared the story about how at an early age, I saw my Great Grandmother getting dressed and putting on a bra (a "brassiere" she called it) over some sort of medieval looking Spanx getup (It was the late 70's... which meant her undergarments were from the late '50's). Long story short, I remember watching her with wonderment-- How is it possible for boobs to fall that low? Were they ALWAYS like that? Will she trip over them?

30 years later, I've figured out the answers to those questions, and frankly, I'm not so happy about the "knowing" part. Lacking in size, my boobs are not. But lacking in all things Sophia Vergara, they most certainly are. Though my boobs have never been a deterrent on the boy front (in fact, I was felt up 2 years before I even had my first kiss), it's an area that I've always been self conscious of....

Oh, and breastfeeding a baby who wiggled and squirmed like an Octopus getting electrocuted, did not help.

Anyway, this is all coming up because of a lovely little exchange I had with my 3 year old this morning. Amidst a lovely lego fort building session, Jonah leaned in to give me a hug.

J: "Mommy, why are your boobies so weeeeird."

Me: "Huh?! My boobies are weird?!"

J: "Yeah. They're just ... (wiggling his body), so WOBBLY and like... (He lays back with his mouth gaped open like a corpse)... THAT."

Before I let my mind start racing with all the things that "That" could mean, I nod, say "thank you" for his observation, and knock over his fucking fort. NO. I'm kidding. He knocked it over. And that was that.

What I'm getting at here, is that I was obviously NOT NAKED during our little boobie extravaganza, so a) why did he think about this and b) are my boobs, covered by pajamas, seriously that "weird???"

Have your kids ever commented on your body? How do you respond?

NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY

When's the last time you looked in the mirror, and saw those dark circles under your eyes as a status symbol-- a beautiful indication of the hours you put into your family and life, instead of a sign of exhaustion and stress? Or when's the last time you looked down at your breasts (literally DOWN at your breasts, as they now fall below the equator) and considered their (dis)placement as a rite of passage, instead of "the shitty thing about breastfeeding?" OR when's the last time you looked at your ass in your not skinny jeans but alllmost 2 sizes CLOSER to the skinny jeans, and thought it looked perfectly fine...instead of a fat blob of once hot goodness?

Though charming, delightful, and entirely inspirational, let's be honest: those love yourself/love your body/ Dove campaign moments are few and far between for most of us. Amidst a divorce, a relationship post divorce, a house foreclosing, a career I wish would explode and a 3-year old who pretty much does explode when I wish he wouldn't--- I spend a lot of time in "woe is me" land. But it occurred to me yesterday, while on the treadmill (for the first time in god knows how long), that I'm not so bad. All things considered, I'm pretty goddamn spectacular. Yep, I said it.... And then I said it again, and again and again... And it got me thinking.... What if for one day, I just LIKED MYSELF. And I'm not even talking about the real "it's the inside that matters" stuff like personality, and generosity and intelligence, blah blah blah. I'm talking strictly superficial. HOW I LOOK. What if for one day, I shouted from the roof tops the things that I seriously, SERIOUSLY like about myself. The things that I can SEE in a mirror that I can always feel good about no matter what. The things that will be there with or without a promotion, with or without a significant other to cuddle with, with or without a best mommy of the year award...

Like my nose... I love my nose.

My ankles... I love my ankles.

My eyebrows... With a little help, I love my eyebrows.

Now it's your turn. It's NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY and I'm challenging YOU to like yourself today too. Choose three things that you love about yourself physically. Share them in the comments here and/or on your own blog. Be sure to leave a link and link back to me too. Tweet it, facebook it, share it with your community and spread the like yourself love....

Who's in?

TUCKED AWAY

Last year, during my SAHM stint, I accidentally dropped my blackberry in the toilet. Twice. The first time it happened because I had my phone wedged in to the back pocket of my Rock & Republic Jeans and when I went to pull down my pants to go to the bathroom, my phone fell right in to the bowl. Awesome. The second time, I honestly have no idea what happened. I think it just fell out of my hand and in to the toilet. This time, the water was not clean. 

Both scenarios sucked and of course ended up with me at the Verizon store begging and pleading with the mildly retarded customer service people, swearing that the wet/battery damage was in their imagination and totally impossible. 

Well, I've since wised up. I no longer try to stuff said phone in to my back jean pockets considering that a) those pockets aren't reaaaaaaaally pockets. They're just for show and, b) Should I try to stuff phone in to the world's tightest pair of jeans/pocket, I will inevitably call the 3 people in my phonebook that I never reaaaaaally want to talk to. Thus, I have had to come up with another solution --because just keeping my phone somewhere in the abyss that is my purse and/or diaper bag, really isn't a solution. (Ever tried to a return a phone because there are Goldfish crackers keeping you from using the #8 key???)  

SO, thanks to my ample bosom (yeah, I said it), which requires a bra with decent straps, I have come up with an alternative-- A" boob pocket", if you will. First of all, it totally works and keeps all things put. Second, I never miss a call or email and frankly, getting a little chest buzz/vibration is kind of a fun treat. I realize that from a distance, in a certain shirt, it may look like I have a weird pacemaker, but let me tell you, many a mom at the park have commented (commended, really) on my solution and I'm pretty sure you'll see this trend making it's way through the West side parks soon.  

Best thing about this look, there's still some room to hold my car keys.....

ALL GROWNS UP

The other night,  as I was feeding the baby, T-Ko was rifling through the mail and declared, "I'm over Victoria Secret."

"Huh?" I looked up. He holds up a Nordstrom lingerie catalogue. "Victoria Secret. It sucks. This. THIS is hot." T-Ko points to one of the pages, "Dude. Look at this. Isn't this hot?" 

I nod and wait for his next inevitable statement: "You should wear this."

Sure. But if you think that's hot, may I also introduce you to stores called Saks, Neiman's, and Barneys...

Later in the evening, as we were brushing our teeth, T-Ko tells me he saw one of our doctors, who is sort of a Hollywood/shmoozer type, at the mall. 

"... And I see him walking with this hot, young woman, and I'm like, 'uh oh.'"

"Oh no, really?" I say.

"No, it turned out it was his wife. My mom recognized her."

"Oh. Good. That would have sucked."  I rinse my mouth. "What does she look like? I picture like a very fake, over the top woman..."

"No. Not at all," he says: "She's like a more put together version of you."

Dude.