Dear Skinny Bitches

First of all, I want everyone(aka Skinny Bitches and Fashion Whores) to know that I am well aware of the fact that I look NOTHING like the women on Housewives of Orange County.

I am aware of the fact that I do not know how to apply makeup( much less bronzer.).By the way, WTF is the point of bronzer if you bake your narrow asses in a tanning bed everyday??
Speaking of tanning, I cannot apply self tanner without looking like a whacked out Ooompa Loompa with color blindness.
I cannot dye my hair without missing a spot or dying the back of my earlobe.
I cannot wear a thong for more than an hour without wishing I could staple its creator to a wall with the thong pulled up over his/her ears.
I cannot wear high heels. At. All. Hell, I cannot walk in a straight line barefoot without tripping over air.
I have only had one mani/pedi in my life and I HATED it. Something about angry Asian women yelling at me, um not relaxing.
I am aware of the fact that I am fat. I am aware of the fact that look like I JUST had a baby eventhough Stinkerbell will be four in less than a month. Suck it. I DO NOT have some no neck, steroid sucking personal trainer coming to my house to help me work out. I also do not have undivided time to go to the gym.
No, I am not lazy. I am not someone who can eat a whole pound cake in one sitting. I am busy. Incredibly busy. I work full time as well as the fact that I am someone’s mom 24/7.. I wish running up and down the stairs fifty plus times did something to chisel my ass and whittle my thighs. It. Doesn’t.
I wish chasing a maniacal three year old through Wal Mart made my legs look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Nope.
I wish picking up my baby to love her up a million times made my arms look more like Flo Jo and less like Aunt Mable. Sadly.No.
And I wish that having four kids did not make me have to worry about “Granny cleavage” when I wore a bathing suit top. Underwire..I love thee!
Here is something though.

I DON’T regret picking up my babies a million times, feeling their soft skin and feeling their sweet baby breath on my neck. I don’t regret wiping hair off of sweaty brows and kissing the tips of perfect little noses before bedtime. I don’t regret my belly getting bigger with each baby, and feeling them stretch and kick inside of me. I don’t regret getting up a million times a night with a sick or scared baby, and cuddling them back to sleep.
I am proud of every stretch mark and spider vein. I know what caused them and I would never get rid of any of them.
I know I will never have boobs that defty gravity. I will never wear a tank top without heavy duty underwire coverage. I will never have a tummy that you can bounce a quarter off of. I will never have hair growing down to a perfectly chiseled heart shaped ass. And you know what? I am fine with that. So you can keep your Prada bags, your Manolo Blaniks, your size 2 waistlines and your perfect bouncy boobies.
I have four gorgeous, amazing,special, unique,frustrating,hysterical masterpieces that I created. There is not a SINGLE designer or boutique that sells or manufactures what I already have. I am lucky, I am blessed. So what if I may not look like a million bucks? When one of my babies wraps their hands in mine or kisses my cheek, I know it does not matter. And you know what? That is fine with me.