I want to punch my husband in the face for suggesting something. But I also want to do what he suggested. Is that bad?
Fellas, "Hey, you want to get a tummy tuck with that extra FLEX account money before it disappears?" is not a nice question.
You may mean, "You're beautiful and I love you, and I want you to be more comfortable in your own skin; and I want you to see in the mirror the same person that I see when I look at you. Since we've got a little unallocated money, I'd love for you have it to do something just to make you feel better,"
but that's not what you said.
Men, if ever you choose to suggest lipo to your lovely wife, those are the exact words you should use. Memorize them now.
Because what I heard was, "Hey Michelin Man, do something with those eighteen spare tires around your midsection, will ya? And make sure you don't waste any of our budgeted money while you're at it, you lazy slob."
I don't have major body image issues, but I am female. There will always be room for improvement. I will never be truly happy with what I see in the mirror. I try to see the post-four-humongous-kids belly as a testament to the wonderful blessings God has given me, but I'd be lying if I said that's what I actually see. I try to see the not-quite-small-enough-for-a-tank-top arms as strong and healthy, but I see floppy things that would make me look like an appetizing first-kill in the Hunger Games.
I don't look like a narwhal in a swimsuit, but I'd still like to be rid of 20 pounds. (Honestly, 40, but I don't want you to think I'm a hippo.)
I remember, when I was a kid, seeing moms in ugly mom-jeans that went above their fat rolls and wondering why in the Hell they would wear something that made them look like they had a butt in the front. But, jeez louise, there's not a chance in Hell I'm going to wear a girdle, not even control-top panty hose, so I guess you've got to deal with whatever I manage to put on. And don't you dare say anything about my tank tops. They're cute, and it's friggin' HOT in Alabama.
So, unless someone decides to nominate me for "What Not To Wear," (which I would TOTALLY do), then I think I'm going to take him up on the offer. Maybe I'll update soon about the new, slimmer me. Maybe.