Conversations with my Post-Baby Body Parts
1. EYES —
Me: Hey! Let’s stay up on Friday night and watch Gravity on Blu-Ray.
Eyes: Sounds great. We’ll be done with our job by like 8:30, though, right?
Me: Well, no. I will need you until the movie is over.
Eyes: We can’t promise that.
Me: Come on. 8:30?
Eyes: We’re already tired of this conversat—-
2. BACK —
Back: I hurt.
Me: I know. I am not gonna tell anyone, though, because they’ll think we’re old.
Back: But you groan every time you stand up and you sigh ridiculously loudly every time you sit down. Who do you think we’re fooling?
3. SKIN —
Me: Discoloration, zits AND wrinkles?
Skin: Yeah, and the kids’ college funds have made us too poor for surgical solutions. If only you could exchange sarcasm for collagen…
4. HAIR —
Me: I am sure glad I had 9 months of prenatal vitamins that made my hair glossy, thick and luxurious. That was nice while it lasted.
Hair: It is so fun when we all jump out of your scalp at once and then the poor schmucks we leave behind all start to turn gray! Good times!
5. BOOBS —
Me: What the hell?!
Boobs: Hey, look! We’re still here! No. Down here. Hello?
6. BRAIN —
Brain: Totally. Hey, let’s worry every minute of every day forever now. I am totes going to make you cry at greeting card commercials and shout like a lunatic when your kid scores his first soccer goal. Don’t delay the anti-anxiety meds, lady. Get me the good stuff, too. I have a lot going on up here.
7. UTERUS —
Me: I hate periods.
Uterus: I hate not having a baby in here. It’s lonely.
Me: Hey, um, I put two babies into ya. That was good, right?
Uterus: Fuck you. I want more babies. Give me more babies! Every month you don’t give me a baby, I’m going to tear down these walls and make your life a living hell. I am going to make it feel like there is a giant fist inside your gut grabbing and twisting your vital organs like you’re being juiced.
8. KNEES —
Me: Hey, what the hell? You guys never hurt before. Now all of a sudden I can tell when it is about to rain. What’s up with that?
Knees: You’re old. And chubby. It’s hard to carry you around. Less chocolate. More kale.
9. LEGS —
Me: Wow. That’s ugly.
Legs: So’s your face! Ha! Ha!
Me: No, seriously, veins? They’re everywhere. I can’t possibly need that many transport lines for my blood. Can’t we do some rerouting or something?
Legs: They got doctors for that, you know.
Me: I know. But that shit hurts. Why can’t you all just straighten up and fly right?
Legs: Why can’t you embrace our newfound blue beauty?
Me: Holy shit. I think I could put a can of soda under my ass cheek and hold it there against my thigh. When did you get so droopy?
Butt: I started heading South during Baby #1. You were too busy designing a nursery motif to notice. Ever hear of Prenatal Yoga? Come on, now.
Butt: You are sorry. In about three more years you’re going to have to start getting your drawers at Sears. SEARS!
Me: Are you sure?
Butt: And, they won’t be called “panties,” anymore. They won’t make “panties” in your size. They will be “underpants.”
Me: That sounds awful.
Butt: And, stop having kids. With your constant expansion and refusal to do Kegels, you’re going to be a fatty who is also, charmingly, incontinent. Then, you’ll be on to adult diapers.
Me: That sucks.
11. FEET —
Me: Hey, guys. My shoes hurt. I don’t ever remember complaining about that before having a coupla babies. What gives?
Feet: Oh, so you thought we’d go back to “normal” size after your babies were born? That’s cute. Hey, Cankles, that sparkly boutique downtown called and said they had shoes in our size. You know the place. They also cater to guys like Larry who stocks lumber at the Home Depot by day, but who by night hosts a cabaret show under the name of Hillary Clit-Ton. Sure, Larry’s alter ego’s typical footwear choices make Gaga look more like Amy Farrah Fowler, but whatevs. They have your SIZE.