I never appreciated you.
You were so kind. You always kept right on moving. Even when I drank alcohol 6 days a week sophomore year in college. And when I went to Taco Bell or Perkins for the Fourthmeal after the bar closed.
No, I never appreciated you. Not even when I was zipping up my teeny tiny Abercrombie jeans and cursing you for making me "fat."
It is really true that you never appreciate what you've got until it's gone.
A couple weeks ago, I was joking with a coworker about how I spend half of my day walking back and forth from the copier. And he said, "that's good - it will help you lose those couple extra pounds."
And I was all: seriously? And he was all: seriously.
Last week, I was wearing shorts and sitting cross legged on the floor while nibbling on Olivia's feet. And I got totally confused, because who put egg cartons on my legs? And why?
Then I realized. Cellulite. Like, scary cellulite. Like, will not be able to wear shorts in public places for fear of scaring small children.
Yesterday, I accidentally made a phone call with my thighs. They are evolving into a totally independent life form, capable of making phone calls and imitating thunder. God forbid I wear corduroys for fear of starting some unstoppable forest fire.
There is nothing like 29 year old post pregnancy metabolism to make a girl wax nostalgic over you, dear, sweet 21 year old metabolism. I find it hard to believe that I would still have such a problem with my Pizza Hut midsection if you were still around.
I sincerely miss you. Because hearing, "You look great," and "You look great...for just having a baby" are not on the same level of flattering, if you know what I mean.
Please, please come back. And bring your friends: 21 year old energy and 21 year old natural muscle tone. We could have so much fun together, eating whatever we want and just generally being smug.
I love you. I miss you. You have the nicest hair.
All My Heart,