Before I had Henry I made this vow to you all that I would document the postpartum journey back to my normal body with you. Well, I don’t want to. I also don’t have the tons of disposable time that I thought I would have. Kids are just so needy, you know? They’re like “feed me!” “Wipe my butt!” “I need milk!” You get it. You all have kids. You’re all like, Oh is that what kids say? Yes it is you sarcastic buttholes. I don’t need this. I’m just trying to tell you how fat I am.
I know why I’m not losing my baby weight. A few reasons include, but are not limited to, Doritos and the invention of stretchy pants. And I make my stretchy pants wurk for their paycheck. Also, Henry eats SO MUCH FOOD. Which makes me produce SO MUCH MILK. Which makes me SO FRACKIN’ HUNGRY. But my body refuses to convert my old fat to milk, it only wants new fuel. My body is like a spiteful trophy wife. If it ain’t new, it don’t want it. Even though sometimes my body is like “Really Kaley? Another cookie? Are you sure? Fine, it’s your life.” Then I tried to put on some pre-pregnancy clothes and this happened.
It’s not time. Not quite yet.
But, if Jessica Simpson can go from this:
To a skeleton with muscular calves, then I believe I can go there too. Also, Jessica has big bewbs.
I’m going to use Maisy Jo’s “name it, claim it” philosophy (calling it “my spoon” makes it mine) here. One day soon I will be able to fit into a flirty, floral romper! You hear that Doritos! I’m done with you. Okay, just one more. Alright another. I can stop anytime I want. Food is fuel! Fat is the new thin!