What about Bob?

Bob is my happy-go-lucky stretch mark. Yes, we named him because he was little, and he was all alone. He started out as a tiny speck right next to my bellybutton, and even though I knew what he would become I was OK with him setting up shop. It was about two months ago, when all of a sudden I went from having no tummy at all to that awkward stage when people wondered if I was pregnant or if I needed to lay off pasta.

Bob was endearing and positively cute. I didn’t even mind him when he started getting a little bit longer, and more noticeable. It was, after all, just one tiny stretch mark. My one souvenir for me to keep, provided that I don’t have a C-section. 

But now Bob is crossing lines. He’s invited a couple of friends to move in with him, and they’re seriously thinking about it. I have no problem housing Bob, but I was not consulted about friends. And if these friends move in, Bob will no longer be cute and loveable in my eyes, he will become the Source of All Evil. (Ahhh… Julian McMahon…. dreamy…)

I noticed that Bob’s friends started thinking about moving in this last month, when between having visitors and going on vacation, I did not spare as much time for exercise. I think Bob’s friends have less to do with Styx and more to do with how lazy I got. I figure these three friends are probably moving in for sure, but I’m working on avoiding more of them. Nothing strenuous, I’m just going back to 30 min of exercise/day and occasional yoga. If Bob’s friends invite anyone over, at least it won’t be my fault.

But I have the World’s Most Sensitive Skin, so I’m guessing this is all really unavoidable.