A little honest journalism.

THIS is what your belly looks like after two babies have kicked the shit out of it from the inside for 36 weeks.

Also, bless Saag and Naan for being reasonably bright children, but they had the discourtesy to have not heard of Tetris in utero. They never did pack themselves in there in the most space efficient manner although Naan did get the satisfaction of spending about a third of the pregnancy with her arse to Saag’s face. Then she plumped for ‘sideways’.  Oh, and trust my exploding waters on this one, they had lots and lots of amniotic fluid, too.

It’s no wonder, really, that I look the way I do. I ain’t Elasta-girl and at one point I looked like THIS:

Coming back to the first picture above in case you haven’t quite got the perspective right, that dark buried thing in the middle is my belly button. It has it’s very own hoodie of skin these days. The wrinkles below are a heady combination of stretch-marked to heck-and back skin with the texture of crêpe paper AND about four inches of bonus abdomen I didn’t use to own.

THOSE are still tucked into my jeans in this shot. I wanted to spare your retinas. Nobody needs to see what looks for all the world like a wrinkly old-person bottom crease on the front of somebody’s guts now, do they?

I may be thin, random people in the supermarket, but trust me on this one, I didn’t get away with it as scot-free as you all seem to think.

Work tomorrow. Urgh.

PS. I adore Saag and Naan, and they were utterly worth it, if you’re wondering. I know I’ve whined on about it before, but I don’t think I’ve been brave enough to post proof.