Operation Smug Mummy: The Workout Ed.

Short version: "WHINE"

Slightly Less Short Version: "Not in search of sympathy - not not not! I'll freely admit when I require an ego stroke - but needing to vent about missing the pre-baby bod"

Twitter Translation: #whitegirlproblems #imsovain #cliche

Long version:

Darlings, it's generally acknowledged here at the Pretty that I'm the spitting image of a certain Grace Kelly substantial photographic evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. Trouble is, some ten months after Master P's blessed arrival, I'm a somewhat wobblier royal of Monaco and, to my surprise, it's bothering vain little (not-so-little) me.

I recommend a bit (a lot) of Veuve for purposes of comparison

Body change bother is a notorious refrain amongst new moms, of course, but one I mostly dismissed as a pregnant lady (for glaring example, here). Truth is, I'm lucky to have lost most of my baby weight - thirty pounds, for those of you keeping track. I'm not saying I'm enormous or don't recognize myself; however, I've taken on curves in strange new locales (tummy bulge, MUFFIN TOP, gaaaaah) and can't fit properly into some pre-baby clothes. Silly though it may be, I'm surprised to find myself frustrated about it.

Yes, I admit that I was sorta wrong. In writing. Anonymous Husband, go ahead & print this page out; no, I never thought this day would come either.

In the spirit not of complaint - well, maybe just a bit - but rather sharing my experience in hopes of helping any other aspiring MILFs out there, I think I underestimated how I'd miss parts of the old "me", both physical and emotional, once Master P arrived. Yes, I knew I'd have to put some time in exercising, but I hadn't anticipated the logistical troubles of doing so nor my mental struggle over dealing with another big life change. I figured my glee over having this precious wee babe in my life would override any body vanity; while the bliss is there, the vanity remains as well, sadly.

(*Cue Laughing*) My pre-baby visions of the MILF Life included a baby who cheerfully slept in his stroller or at the gym childcare while I breezily picked up my regular workout schedule again. Master P being the first newborn I've ever spent much time with, I had no idea about the logistical difficulties like Master P having "stranger danger" in daycare-type situations. I also didn't anticipate getting sick whenever baby did or just not having the energy to exercise until MP started sleeping through the night at 6.5 months.

My alternatives, hiring a part-time nanny or waking at 5 am to sneak off to the gym, just aren't feasible nor my preference, so I'm trying to stick to the following workout schedule: 1 hour walk Monday-Friday, at least 1 gym visit on weekends. Not enough to firm up that which used to be so, but enough to balance out my (non-negotiable) ice cream intake.

Until I figure out a more clever solution to my Operation MILF workout dilemma, it's back to some of that strategic dressing we talked about here. Note below the self-ASSessment now used before leaving the house to ensure said problem areas are disguised; also, note deceptively slimming side pose and tunic disguising drool stains and wobbly bits:

With apologies to my late but still fabulous Grandmother, who is surely raising an Estee Lauder'ed brow at my: (1) white before Memorial Day and (2) use of "ass" anywhere, ever.

The moral of my self-pitying story is . . . doing the best I can fitness-wise for now with the limited workout time I have and reassessing once Master P is a few months older. Also, camouflage. Finally, camouflage.