While I love being lazy about the things that don't matter, that mantra seems to stop when it comes to my abs. Based on how often I think about my stomach, my abs matter. Like water-crisis-matter. I think I've read every article that contains the words abs, flat, and fast. Probably twice.
Have I ever done what any of those articles told me to do? Maybe for like a day. At half speed. I ate some chocolate after.
But isn't that the way it goes? If I really wanted to impress the world (that doesn't care) with my body that looks like it didn't have three babies, I should, like, work on it. But I don't. Because it doesn't matter enough. But I treat it like it matters the most. I walk into a room assuming that everyone is evaluating how my shirt fits. PEOPLE. NO ONE CARES. I know this. I roll my eyes at myself daily. But I still feel it.
Beautiful people seem to matter, and very few famous beautiful people have a stomach that looks like a dried up cruller. Does that mean I don't matter?
Of course I do. Of course you do. But that doesn't always feel true. And that's why I keep reading the articles. I am abs-olutely ::knee slap!:: trying to be a genius about something that doesn't matter.
Do you feel that way, too? What do we do? We know it's stupid to expect our bodies to look like Chrissy Tiegen three months postpartum or JLo at age 47, looking like ferociously beautiful super villains with all their contouring and biceps, but we still compare ourselves to them. It's not a fair fight. It's like trying to cut down a redwood with a fork.
We've heard all the rhetoric. Embrace your beauty! Every size is gorgeous! Be proud of your pregnancy battle scars! Not gonna lie... it all makes me a little stabby. Because on certain days, I'm stomach stupid; I think that I can't be loved or valued or thought of as beautiful if I have rolls. I'm irrelevant unless I can get back to my life's smallest size. Which was when I was 21 and a size two because I was eating only 800 calories a day. THAT'S CALLED AN EATING DISORDER, EVERYONE. I'm a smart person, but my stomach makes me stupid if I think it's feasible to get back to the size I was when I didn't eat any food. Slash I've had three babies, one of whom was removed from my body only three months ago. I mean, come on.
I've said enough words. Please tell me you're stomach stupid, too. I have no answers. I just want you to know that you're not alone if you're nodding along with me.
Whether your baby is 3 months or 13 years, whether you've never had a baby at all, it feels real. It is real. But it's also stupid. Our stomachs make us stupid. And even though I don't know how to make it stop, being honest and sharing the stupidity with each other can't hurt, right? Anything is better than mentally flogging myself for not having the stomach of a twelve year-old. All the eye rolls.
So spill it. Are you stomach stupid?
And in case you need a perspective shift, you might enjoy reading why it sucks to be Blake Lively.