I always see these quotes pop up on pinterest. The whole “your body is not ruined, your stretch marks are just tiger stripes who earned them.” Or “I love my stretch marks because they show I carried my beautiful baby.” And I get it. We need to embrace them. For me, it’s more like accept them. And I do. I don’t care that much anymore. I remember when my first one popped out, I was like 7 months pregnant. I put coconut oil on. Biotin oil. Coffee grinds. Vaseline. Then more came out. So I said screw it.

I would have been fine if my proof that I carried a baby in my stomach was the actual baby itself that came out. Or maybe the bags under my eyes because my child is out to get me and doesn’t sleep. I would have been fine with these as my proof. That would have been A-OK with moi. Just humour me here OK? Don’t get offended (but like….who am I kidding, it’s 2018).

But what if a genie came to you and said “You have two choices. A). You keep your stretch marks and nothing changes. Your relationship with your body, your spouse, your child, it all stays the same. Wether it was good or bad. Or B). I get rid of your stretch marks and nothing changes. Your relationship with your body, your spouse, your child, it all stays the same. Good of bad.” Which option would you pick? I would be be picking option B faster than you can say “Hey Genie, if I KEEP my stretch marks, can you grant me a toned stomach?”

But, if you’re a mom who TRULY, 100% loves her stretch marks, and would keep them if given the choice to not have them…. then your name should be Mother fricking Teresa. And I take my hat off to you, and I think you’re definitely a better person than me. AND a lot less vain. But if you’re like me, and would totally pick no to the tiger stripes, AND would try and swindle this genie for a few more wishes, then I also take off my hat to you. Because you’re hustling and trying to get more wishes. But I probably wouldn’t call you Mother Teresa because I feel like she wouldn’t be swindling a genie. Shame on you.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that genie’s would make our lives a lot easier. What would your three wishes be? Mine would be:

1). Look like all the hot, tanned girls in cute bikinis in outfits I have pinned under my secret board called “get it girl.” (I made this board like legit 5 years ago, and guuuurrrrl…. I still haven’t gotten “it.”

2). Have a  # in my bank account, it can be any number (just not a 0), but with like a minimum of 6 zero’s following.

3). Health. Health to the people I love the most.

See? Getting rid of my tiger stripes didn’t even make the list. So clearly I’m not that upset about them. But what I was ACTUALLY trying to say is as a mom, or as women, we don’t HAVE to pretend we love out bodies as much as hash tags tell us to. It’s OK to hate your love handles. It’s OK to hate that your thighs are constantly touching and when it gets hot out you get a heat rash (anyone?) It’s OK to hate the fact that your calves make your hunter boots make fart nosies when you walk cuz they’re so tight around your calf, and when air escapes it sounds like a fart. It’s OK to hate that when you look at a picture of yourself you have a double chin and you hate it.

Like you get shamed for saying “ugh! I’ve gained so much weight.” How many times have you gotten “no way!! You look beautiful! You don’t need to lose any weight! You’re perfect!” Puh-Leeze. I have a mirror. And also, my clothes don’t fit, so there’s that. And another also, the person saying that to you is also a solid 10 on the hotness scale… while I’m a solid 3.4 on a good day. So let me tell you that I’ve gained weight. And instead of telling me I’m a babe (Umm, I kinda already knew that, duh), be like “Yup. You’re a fatty.” JUST KIDDING. DO NOT SAY THAT TO ANYONE. But maybe just say “ya, losing weight is hard.” Or “well, you can always fix that.” Or if you’re an amazing friend say “Lets work out together.” Am I getting my point across? Or do I sound like an idiot?

Don’t let your hate for your stomach make you hate yourself. But also, if you hate the extra 10 lbs (or in some cases…me….. 50 lbs. Wait… did I just write that?) get off the couch and lose it. If you don’t wanna lose it, then don’t. If you want to lose it, then do. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Basically, you’re allowed to want to look good. You’re allowed to want to lose weight, and still be confident and happy with who you are. I want to lose 50-60 lbs (before you say that’s too much, just trust me). I still like who I am right now with that extra weight. I still wake up happy (this is a lie. I hate waking up). I still think my husband won the lottery with me (his opinion on this is invalid). I still think I’m a bomb cook. I still think I’m a decent person. I just also want to look…. skinnier. And for me, strong is not the new skinny. Because let me tell you friends, I have yet to lose an arm wrestle against any girl. And I beat my brother, Dane, and another guy at a leg war. I’m a champ, basically. But also, don’t challenge me, you may make me eat my words.

If you have a chicken butt, or a lard butt, at least you still have a butt. So be happy. There!! I figured out the point of my post. BE HAPPY. If you don’t love how you look, do something about it, but be happy. If you love how you look, be happy, cuz you’re a babe. If you don’t agree with my post, bugger off and be happy. Just be happy.

Ps- don’t judge me on the fact that my first two wishes were a). vanity b). money, and that my last one was health. I know the genie’s got it in the bag, so I was’t too worried, OK? Remember, be happy.

PS- This is Olive in my belly. Not a new babe. NOT PREGNANT.