So here I sit, "sporty" bikini underwear underneath my not-quite-skinny jeans, and I'll be honest with you: I am not nearly fit enough to qualify as "sporty" in the eyes of the Hanes company. In fact, they really might as well print You Must Be This Athletic to Purchase on the packaging. Instead of a nice band of stripey elastic lying smoothly across my hips, I have a nice roll of flab on either side of the allegedly wide elasticized waistband. It's super flattering, and kind of flabbergasting.* Why can't something just fit like it's supposed to fit, regardless of what size you are?
Fortunately, as much as I'd like my body to be stronger and thinner, I'm also pretty okay with it and all the stuff it can do. It also helps that I live with a man who loves me for thinner or for fatter, in firmness and in flab, and truly believes that the top is the best part of the muffin. However, the point of buying new underwear was to, uh, get some new, not-stretched-out-by-pregnancy underwear. Not to remind myself that Sporty Spice I ain't.
*flabbergast (tr. v.) - To cause to be momentarily overcome with astonishment at one's flabbiness.
This post inspired by true events, and GGC's fabulous state-of-the-belly address.