First off, let me say that I have a great group of close friends. But I'm wondering why nobody reminded me (before I got knocked up) that your post-baby body resembles something that Gumby might morph into. Frumpy comes to mind. And I'm not even sure that's a word. I am frumpy. My stretched skin has nowhere to go except down; I have melted. I feel like someone that could qualify for medicare. All I lack since I'm still wearing some elastic-type pants and nursing bras big enough to frighten small children (which I do from time to time, because I will nurse ANYWHERE) is a fanny pack and an "easy" haircut, which I may very well get since I don't have time to wipe my ass (God, what has happened to me). And by the way, I can fit in many of my regular clothes, but just because you can doesn't mean you should.
I just checked for myself (thanks Google for making my life easier), and "frumpy" is, indeed, a word. So, until I find the time to join a gym or perhaps get plastic surgery, I'll be here...in the thralls of frumpiness...in my elastic pants.
