CATHOLIC BROAD DEVELOPS POUCH

Hi, there, Catholic, or non-Catholic readers, welcome to my blog! Today I will talk a little bit about some fleshy concerns that I have, rather like Norma Ephron's, "I Feel Bad About My Neck."

Well, damn, I feel bad about my STOMACH. As someone who has always been lean and mostly fit, I am surprised to find that I have two stomachs now--the original one which is pooching on out, and an accessory one just above. Just in case I was wanting more in the stomach line.

It's sort of as if my body is being extra generous with me, like giving me two servings of flesh instead of just one. And I know--I know that our old world is in a sad state with some very, very scary stuff going on, which I will not talk about here--but still, aging broads like their bodies to look the way they did when they were 20.  Or 40. Or maybe at least 52!

But here's the thing: once you have a total hysterectomy, along with some nifty bowel surgery (Rick says, when people ask how I am doing, "Oh, Annie? She's growing a new bowel."), your body shifts. It doesn't matter how many crunches you do, or sit ups, or minutes spent doing an aerobic DVD (which Char termed, "Peppy-peppy" years back), or wearing spandex undergarments which basically just flatten you in one place and push your flesh up higher in a fleshy pool noodle. Sigh.

So--what to do? My dear younger brother, Peter, would say, "Buy new clothes, Annie." Just do it. Nick, my dear older brother, might remind me there are other things to worry about besides having two stomachs, such as climate-change.

And me? Is there a patron saint of weight-loss or stomachs? Apparently, St. Margaret is the go-to lady here for weight loss, and St. Timothy or St. Erasmus for stomach ailments.  I refuse to have stomach-surgery to get rid of my flesh pool noodle. Giving up my 1-2 glasses of wine per night would probably help, because as we all know, the body burns off alcohol before burning any body fat.  Actually, I have an idea--besides just accepting my body, welcoming it, and loving it as is, as God loves it as well. Remember those weight-loss machines of the late 50s and 60s, where women with hair sprayed into rigid rolls stood on a machine while a belt around their fundament jiggled them back and forth? I'm gonna get me one of those!