I'm standing in my kitchen in yoga pants and a sports bra.

A little while ago I subjected myself to a good hour and a half of exercise at Bally's in Hollywood and I'm feeling pretty good about my workout prowess. Today I was able to run longer and faster on the treadmill and even did an extra set on the aptly titled "Butt Blaster."

Now I'm standing in the kitchen, reading online about what's going on in New Orleans. Olinga just came over and rubbed my stomach. A stomach which is by no means flat and jiggle free. I felt a little like one of those jolly Buddha statues. And then he said...

"Mommy, your tummy's fat.
And your booty's fat too."

Now he's talking to my stomach. "Hey fat tummy. You're kinda squishy. Fat tummy, what kinda soda do you want to drink?"

Just fabulous.

I want to grab Olinga by the arm and smack him while shouting, "I used to have a flatter stomach before I got pregnant with your little ass!"

He just ran off singing, "Shake shake shake! Shake shake shake! Shake your booty!"

I think my runners high just got smacked down to earth.


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