Really. Thanks for that.

Yesterday morning, I came home from the gym just in time to fix my kids breakfast. Even though I was sweaty and stinky and a total booger woman in the worst kind of way, I was feeling pretty good about myself because after all, I did just work out. You know how it is... the effort alone makes you feel thinner, right? So, I was expertly whizzing my way around the kitchen in my yoga pants and my Clay Aiken T-shirt looking like a booger woman but feeling like a hot rock goddess, when Jordan says,

"Mommy, why does your stomach look like that?"

"Like what?" I ask... (after all, I got up at 5:40 AM to run and lift weights and ellipticize myself, why on earth would my stomach look anything but flat and totally amazing?)

He replies, "like it has another baby in it... and it's all wrinkly too."

(Insert here the sound of my pride and self dignity erupting into a raging ball of smoke and flame.)

Well then. I felt like telling Jordan that maybe there WAS another baby in my tummy... a boy, that was going to grow up big and strong, and one day beat him up for being so rude to his mother. But I didn't. I also didn't mention that perhaps the reason my belly is so wrinkly is because I carried his massive nine pounds for nine and a half months... ungrateful heathen.

Okay. I take that back. My 6 year old is not an ungrateful heathen. But I'm STILL a hot rock goddess no matter what he says. Wrinkly belly and all.