WANTED: Middle Aged Dumpy Wife, no prior cleaning experience required

The other day, my otherwise wonderful husband of five years read me an article about how the U.S. population is amongst the heaviest in the world. No surprise there, we are each surrounded by so many McD’s, Chick-Fil-A’s, BK’s and Sonics to make one big indoor kid’s Playland. In fact, yesterday’s news listed the 10 top fat cities, with 8 of those being located in the Southeast U.S. I, however, do not live in any of those beautiful, fat states.

One statement in particular, really caught my attention – something about “the typical middle aged dumpy American women”. As my husband read this section aloud to me, while I was diligently washing the breakfast dishes as he lounged, as usual, reading the Sunday paper, I balked at the meanness of this very same comment. I turned to him and said, “Wow, that’s horrible! Do you know how those middle-aged women will feel when they read this article?” To that, he raised one eyebrow at me and said, “OK, how?”

WHAT!? Um, what did you just say … OUT LOUD?

Yes, I know. I should have thrown the soapy-wet Caphalon skillet at his head with discus throwing precision. But, alas, I am apparently NOT the beautiful, lovely, THIN AND YOUNG Leryn Franco from Paraguay. (Don’t worry, Leryn, we still love you and your photograph will still grace my “Wanna Be” wall for many years to come, because apparently I am middle-aged and dumpy, and, therefore, not worthy of emulating your beauty any time soon.)

I had a baby four years ago. No, that’s not my excuse! (Well, yes it is, but I love my child more than anything in this world and have apparently given my butt, thighs and belly for her! I am Pear-Shaped, therefore, I am.) I gained the minimum amount of weight during the pregnancy, but I gave myself an edge by starting with 20 lbs. already. :-D So, when I lost the baby weight almost immediately afterwards (breastfeeding really does do wonders!), I was not thrilled to say I was still 20 lbs. past my personal goal weight. Haha Although I stopped breastfeeding when my child was almost 15 months, my new eating habits for two were already well-established. My weight, now not balanced by the breastfeeding effort, slowly ballooned. Today, I could probably feed a small Olympic nation, if only the added weight were breastmilk instead of strategically-placed fat cells just waiting to multiply.

One morning, not too long after my last birthday, I looked at a stranger in the mirror: A woman with her hair pulled back in a pony-tail, grey-roots showing, pushing 40 lbs over goal weight, wearing a shapeless, non-descript crew-neck t-shirt (nice, ample cleavage not showing whatsoever, thank you very much), WalMart shorts, mismatched bra/panties underneath.

Where did *I* go?

And, who IS this dumpy, overweight middle-aged woman in my mirror?

Oh, and did I mention I hate to clean?