While we are on vacation, we're going to meet up with a good friend of ours. The only problem is my friend has had some work done. She's had a nip and a tuck and an implant inserted here and there-- if you know what I mean. Of course she looks amazing because she doesn't have an ounce of cellulite anywhere on her body. It has all been sucked out, literally! I'm usually not too self-conscious because I think I look alright. I mean, yes, I'm a little jiggly. And yes, my boobies hang a little lower than most. And yes, I've got a little pot belly. But, I don't believe I look that bad considering I'm a thirty-something, Hispanic, Tejana, who has pooped out a kid. However, you stand me next to her, and I look like a beached whale with saggy, banana boobs.
I know I shouldn't worry about how I look in a bathing suit standing next to her, but all of a sudden I do. I know. It's so stupid of me. And I know she achieved her look by having surgery and putting her life at risk for the sake of vanity. I know all of this, but my brain can't seem to turn off all of these insecurities.
I know perfection cannot be accomplished without surgery. I know putting one's life at risk for vanity is stupid. I know I can never look as good as her. I know all of this, but, yet, my mind keeps focusing on my jelly roll, muffin top, spare tire or whatever you want to call it. I see my thighs in the mirror, and I hear thunder. I see my deflated boobs, and I think of pancakes.
Oh, why is this vacation with her starting to stress me out?!
Well, here are a few pictures from our Thailand trip last year. I used Jude as my cover-up.