Shape Up

Alright.  So The Boy is 1.  And you know what that means, right?  It means his mother must get into shape.  Not just as in "Well, she had a baby a year ago and doesn't look too bad" shape.  No no no.  It means that she must fit into jeans a size smaller than before she got pregnant, miraculously eradicate a mid-section full of excess skin and build arm muscles rivaling Linda Hamilton's "Terminator" guns (wow, I'm really dating myself with that reference).

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, "Mrs. Jarcy, those expectations are unrealistic.  You really should be thanking your lucky stars you fit into your pre-pregnancy jeans and call it a day."

NONSENSE I say!  I will accomplish the impossible, I will I will!  I'm doing Pilates 3-5 days a week, walking sporadically, cutting back to a few glasses of wine every other day and consuming only two cookies after lunch!  Tonight I went above and beyond and ate carrots for dinner!  Carrots, for goddess sake!!!

So there, it is just a matter of time when these skinny jeans won't be as ill-fitting as O.J's bloody glove (wow, could I be any older?) and I will be the MILF I always knew I could be.  Now where's that ranch dressing?  That would garnish these carrots perfectly...