I Have A Mom Butt And You Know What? THAT'S FINE!

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I Have A Mom Butt
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You can’t crash fancy hotels looking for elusive craft beer spots in hot pants, my friend.

By Tamarah Rockwood

The other night, my husband and I took our kids to swim at a lake nearby. This is an awesome lake that no one goes to on weekdays, especially in the evening. Which means we have it all to ourselves! Achievement unlocked: Lake!

After 5 enormous pregnancies and still having a few, ahem, dozen pounds to lose before I get to my pre-pregnancy, college weight, let me say...I hate bathing suits. Not a fan. I have a body that was designed for having babies.

I do not have a body that looks like any of the ladies on Pinterest who are stretching in green fields wearing hot pants and sports bras.

Can't you just see me running around my suburban neighborhood wearing this? Does it come in size I’ve-had-5-kids?

Instead, I like to wear compression pants — despite the inevitable bulging — and a red shirt that says 'Running Sucks' while sweating profusely in the safety of my backyard.

Yes. Running does, in fact, suck. 

Even in high school…heck, even in junior high, I was curvy. I was buying maternity dresses in order to wear something that could house my bosom. My belly has never been firm; my thighs have never been sculpted. I have never been 'that' Pinterest girl — even when Pinterest didn't exist.

And I married a man who absolutely loves curvy, voluptuous, dark, and witty women. Phew.

Plus, I actually like myself. I like my squishy belly, I like my monster calves, I like my curves, and I like how I look. I’m pretty sure they made petticoats in the '50s for women like me to rock their curves with a hefty za-zing.

Even still, bathing suits are strongly stuck on my “Eeehhh….” list.

That night at the lake it was just us, so I didn’t have to remind myself that I don’t need to worry about what other people think. I just enjoyed myself with my family, and my husband enjoyed me in a super-cute purple vintage bathing suit.

After we were all done swimming, we went back up to the car (See: SUV. See: 5 kids.) to dry off and head home for dinner, and my husband asked me to turn around so he could take a picture of my hair. He said it was so beautiful and shining red in the afternoon sunlight.

My husband is the greatest, if you haven’t noticed.

I turn around and let him take a few pictures of my hair, which I am looking forward to seeing.  We all get in the car and start driving away, and I start flipping through my husband’s phone to see the pictures of my awesome hair…

And...my awesome butt.

I was presented with an undeniable truth: I have a Mom Butt. 

The Mom Butt is a little wider, a little flatter, and a little longer than the butts on the totally dedicated and amazing women of Pinterest. (Mad props to them though; seriously. Whoa.)

The Mom Butt is what my aunts had when I was growing up in LA. The Mom Butt is not what you will ever see in magazines, or posing on a red carpet, or being praised in Gweneth Paltrow’s no-bake, no-eat cookbook.

However, the Mom Butt can be found in my kitchen, cooking totally awesome meals for my family. It can be found sitting behind my desk while I teach the kids their lessons.  It can be found in the backyard tending my garden and chickens on my little homestead. It can also be found with a pretty hot man behind some locked doors in the house, if you know what I mean (and I think you do…).

I am not a Pinterest woman, and I’ve got a Mom Butt. That's ok!

You can’t crash fancy hotels looking for elusive craft beer spots in hot pants, my friend.

This article was originally published at Ravishly. Reprinted with permission from the author.

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