Hey Tracy Anderson,
I know you've backed down after the furore surrounding your charming, apparently misinterpreted comments the other week, chastising women for using pregnancy as an excuse to let themselves go.
B-b-b-but I just can not let this blow over until I hand you an award.
The asshat award, to be precise.
You have a bangin' bod. You know this. You hard work for it and to be quite frank, you have to since it's how you make a buck. Kinda hard to slog off exercise DVD's with a box of Krispy Kreme original glazed in hand, isn't it?
I, on the other hand, do not have a bangin' bod. Well, I do but not by your standards. I have good intentions to ship shop shape but it ends there. I've actually gained weight since giving birth. Oh I know, right? SOMEONE GET THIS BITCH OUT OF THE KITCHEN!
I could give you one hundred and one reasons why I haven't trimmed that ass down but let's say they range from CBF, I have three under five at home with me and no hired help, the budget does not allow gym memberships, I have a stage 5 clinger baby (ie: the world will end if I put her down) and when I run, my thighs rub together and start fires.
Oh, right. I wasn't going to prattle off excuses was I?
In any case, my body is far from perfect. It shakes, it jiggles, it has a few rolls here, there and everywhere but dammit, it is not a disaster as you feel it would be. The fact that I have carried three beautiful, healthy babies to term then birthed and nourished them is kind of a solid testament to the fact that my body is a fucking wonderland. John Mayer actually wrote that song about my post baby body.
Whatever.
Now, my thing is I don't Judgey McJudge you for being some vain-ass swamp donkey who drags her ass into the gym straight after giving birth. Nor do I give interviews scoffing at women who don't spend those precious weeks post partum, focusing on bonding with their baby, resting up and establishing breast feeding.
NO.
So, you know, maybe don't judge me for as you put it, "letting myself go". Instead, maybe think of it as I (and many other new mums) are too busy enjoying our babies and flipping a big fuck you at the ridiculous emphasis society places on beauty and vanity and fucking hip bones.
Enjoy your new asshat, Trace and save the shit talking for boot camp eh?
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