21 February 2013

Jiggly Flab

Next year I hit the big 4-0.  And I don't say that with fear, shame and thoughts botoxing the wrinkles away.  In no way do I feel too old, most days I actually feel like I am still in my 20s.  Yes, this must explain a lot of things.  In no way does feeling 20 something mean I wan to relive my youth.  HELL NO!!!  My twenties were a blur of tequila shots, Johnny Walker on the rocks, street parties on Nakpil St., and dancing in Mars till I practically had to crawl out of that rabbit hole.  I can only thank my lucky stars that there were no digital cameras back then or Facebook or Twitter or Instagram.  It was absolute crazy fun but with it came the many nights spent puking in the bathrooms, horrible hangovers and miracles of driving myself home in safe and sound.  These days I prefer to spend my evenings with the earthlings.  We do game night at home and play Monopoly, Jenga and Go Fish.  Or we do a movie night, the only time they get to eat popcorn in my room and they get to sleep way past their bedtime.  It's not so crazy but it is fun, I get to sleep by midnight, the next morning I sleep in till 9 and still have the rest of the day to enjoy in an unzombie like state.

Alas life is not always a bed of roses.

There is one thing about getting older that I absolutely hate and it can only be described as jiggly flab.  Where the hell did it come from and why the fuck wasn't I given an instruction manual on what to do with it? It isn't about losing weight because I don't really have to but good god it is hard as hell to embrace this new body I now have.  Now when I wave at someone there is this jiggly extra skin in my arms that Aiden loves to jiggle and squeeze in his pursuit to annoy me to death.  I have seen this jiggly droopy arm flab many years ago.  Not on me but on my grandmothers.  Grandmothers!!!!  I am going to have bat like wings at the rate I am going.  Then there is love handles, such a stupid name for such a hateful part of anyone's body.  I was never born to wear low rise anything but the problem with the 30 something love handles is that they don't only affect the rise of your pants.  Lately my choice of tank top or blouson, belted or not, tuck in or change to something baggy are all ruled by the state of my love handles.  Same goes for my belly.  A day when my belly is flatter than my breasts is a good day.  A day when my belly looks more like a 5-month pregnant belly is a day that Paco knows to steer clear and get the hell out of the way.

Let's move on to my ass, shall we? My problem area has always been the puson so when I get dressed, before leaving the house and when I go shopping I make sure I am wearing something belly deceiving.  Then I saw a picture of myself with my back turned and had to look twice in horror as I could not believe it was me.  Holy hell!!! Where the fuck did that ass come from and when in the world did it get so friggin wide?  I never had a nice ass, I was unfortunately born with a flat one that can never hold up any pair of jeans but I swear it was never huge.  Until now when squeezing into a pair of skinny jeans requires a lot of acrobatics to get into and a lot more self worth to get out of when I realize there is a lot of spillage at the waist if I manage to get them buttoned at all.  Same as my legs, I never really had sexy legs.  My mom has nice skinny legs but sadly only my brother inherited them.  I got the thick calves from of my dad but it was easy to overcome with flattering lengths and high heels.  Now the legs are just as jiggly as everything else.  When I sit they get flattened like the world's biggest pancake. 

Don't even get me started on cellulite.