Your Mom Jeans Would Like A Word With You

Hold it right there, young lady.  Just where do you think you’re going?  “Out”, she says.  Out! Not dressed like that you aren’t.

What are those things you’re wearing, anyway – tights? Oh, they’re jeggings. Never heard of ‘em.  I don’t care if they’re “in”, they’re unflattering.  They thicken you, sweetie.  Your thighs look like something out of the 4-H fair.  Now, don’t get upset with me.  I wasn’t criticizing your legs – I swear! I love your legs.  They’re nice and sturdy. It’s just that those jeggings – well, honey, they don’t do anything for you.  They’re tacky.

Oh, I’m the tacky one, now? Really?  Well excuse me for hitting at your waist.  Excuse me for giving you some wiggle room in the hips.  Fine, fine – wear the low-rise if you want! Let your belly spill out like soft-serve! Go ahead and stuff those sausages of yours into skinny jeans! You’re a big girl now.  If you want to look like a train wreck, that’s your decision.  Just don’t split a seam when you sit down.

I can’t believe you’re shoving me to the back of your closet.  You don’t treat your other clothes this way.  You don’t tell your Land’s End Skirted Tankini she’s too “frumpy”.  Nope, every summer, you try on the one-piece you wore before your pregnancy.  And then once you’re done crying, you head off to the pool wearing that same damn Tankini –  just like every other Mom in the neighborhood. Don’t you girls know how to think for yourselves?  By the way, that built-in “support bra” isn’t supporting anything, little girl.  You can’t hold back a landslide with a bit of elastic and two foam cups – and I don’t care if it is “Miracle Foam”.

Sure, sure.  Now you’re trying on your skort.  You know how I feel about that skort, honey – she’s trouble.  Skirt or shorts? Seems to me she should pick a side.  Yes, I know it’s acceptable today to be “questioning”, but – did you just roll your eyes at me? DON’T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK.

I don’t think you realize just how much I’ve supported you.  Literally!  You carried twins, sweetheart.  Twins.   Just what do you think your gut was like after that C-Section?  I’ll tell you what it was like: a rubbery skin-paunch.  A melting flesh-sicle.  And I held it in!  Day after day.  Week after week.  Yes, the Spanx helped, too.  I’m not saying I did it alone.  But let’s see you try propping up ten pounds of spare tire.  It isn’t easy.

And now you just toss me aside, like I’m nothing.  Go ahead, sweetheart – I’ll be fine.  I’ll just sit here, alone.  Abandoned.  With that crazy poncho you never wear.  I won’t nag you any more, I promise.  I don’t want to be a bother.  But just remember, missy:  if you get pregnant again, don’t you dare come running to me.