Family Magazine

Hidden Underneath is a Jungle of Things That Jiggle.

By Rachel Rachelhagg @thehaggerty5

Let me give you guys a little background on my size. I grew up curveless… no grooves in my jeans. In fact I had to seek out a special place that carried size 00 in jeans for teens. Double zero. It speaks for itself. My Mom bought at least ten pairs that day, knowing going anywhere else would be fruitless. 

One time at a sleepover when I was 12 we were all sitting around the table eating birthday cake , and I was struggling to finish mine. ONLY because minutes before I got into the sausage cheese dip before anyone else stood a chance. I’ll never forget the girls words right into my face:

” I bet you’re starving yourself aren’t you?! No one can be that skinny without NOT eating.”

Tears ran down my face as I quickly wiped them away, as my cousin devoured my piece while the jerk wasn’t looking. That night as I laid my head down to sleep after totally winning the dance contest ( using a chair for my Backstreet Boys modern dance ) I made a vow to myself.


And I drifted off to sleep like a little ignorant naturally skinny child. Little did I know how good my life was.


Just look at all those layers. Hidden underneath is a jungle of things that jiggle.

Fast forward to today in the dressing room of the womens department where I was losing oxygen trying to get a pair of Junior skinny jeans up past my Mom of three thighs.

“These have always fit just right in the past. The last time I shopped for jeans Adah had just been born and she was sucking all the nutrients out of my body. I fit into the skinny jeans in the pre teen department easily. Is drinking massive amounts of wine and beer finally punishing my waist line? Crap. Now I have to be a grown up. And like walk or something. Damn my metabolism. “

And then I had a come to Jesus meeting in the dressing room. I looked myself in the face and I said:

” Rachel, give this last pair of jeans all you’ve got. SUCK IT ALL IN FOR GODS SAKE , THEY ARE ON CLEARANCE! Do you want to pay $25 MORE for the next size up, or do you want to be highly uncomfortable in this pair that is way cheaper than a box of nighttime diapers?! “

I got them to zip, and I tried sitting down on the bench to see how this would work when I had to do things like bend.

The pair I was trying on had an alarm on it. They totally knew that after I put them on that my butt stretched as far as the exit, making the alarm go off. Thus making me question if I was a thief or not? I mean, I didn’t exactly WALK  out the door. I was just trying them on at their own risk.

Send Richard Simmons. I’m ready. 

 My c section scar made it’s debut , and all my post baby rolls busted like a can of biscuits. I am positive the entire store started craving biscuits and gravy because of my arse hanging out. I mean, I didn’t even want to look at it. It was hurtful.

I couldn’t breathe at first, but then I took my hair band out, put it through a loop and allowed a bit more breathing room between the hole and the button. This ensured I could drink two glasses of wine after the kids went to bed without passing out from lack of oxygen.

I tried on one more pair that laughed at my newfound butt, then I gave up. I made my way to the maternity section. I found a nice pair that has a belly band up top, so that I can have all the dairy I desire.

Now that I’m 28 it’s time to live the good life. I’ve got a good man that loves all my stretch marks and tube sock breasts. It’s time to keep letting my waist line expand a bit. I mean, the jerk kid at the sleepover should SEE ME NOW IN ALL MY GLORY!

And next time I see her and she offers me cake… I’mma eat the whole darn plate .

I’m not sharing with her.

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