This season on the Bachelor Pad

Am I a horrible person for watching the season premiere of Bachelor Pad? The correct answer is a resounding YES. It is a horrible show. I was so proud of myself for not watching Bachelorette this season (Ashley being the worst and most annoying bachelorette on the face of the planet made it pretty easy) and yet, here I am, watching the horrible culmination, the piece de resistance of Bachelor trash. I could go on and talk about how VIENNA! you're not doing yourself any favors by going back on national tv because you're only giving america more reason to hate you and CASEY/TATTOO GUY! really?! dating vienna? Ok you really are stupid. You're forgiven. Ugh, Chris Harrison just...go shove your head in a toilet. I hate myself. It's like eating really delicious but extremely hot salsa: you can't stop eating it even though it immediately burns your tongue. But the real kicker comes when you have hot lava diarrhea later that night from that horrible, no good, delicious irresistible salsa. But I will resist, and just end it by saying Bachelor Pad = douche fest + surgically altered boobies.

Speaking of surgically altered boobies, I can totally understand why mommies get a fixer upper in that area after having kids. The sheer weight of my animatronic pirate hooker looking boobs gave up the war with gravity a few months ago. Which is too bad. It was the one part of me that I really thought was above average. Now stay with me now, and don't get all weird. I am an extremely average person. Average intelligence (I have the test scores to prove it) average looks, average average average. I'm like a mott's apple juice. not bad, a bit bland but hey its your average apple juice. But my chest was like a martinelli's sparkling apple cider. I believe they are the reason I scored my above average sexy Mcsmarty pants husband. So its a bit of a drag (pun master) that my sweet chariots are hanging a bit low.

Can I ever stop talking about my post partum body? No. I don't hate my post partum body, its like a war scar that you show your buddies to prove how hard core you are. I remember really wanting to NOT have stretch marks, but here I stand, with a stomach that looks like a swirly whirl impressionist painting. The one reason why I really want to lose all my extra mommy meat is so I can fit into my old clothes again. I'm all for buying new clothes but I just don't want to buy a new wardrobe--I'd rather spend the money on a nicer apartment. Aside: If someone wants to just hand over a reasonable priced 2 bedroom between Olympic and Santa Monica I would love you forever.

So women of the world, tell me how to knit my separated abs together! Someone dangled a delicious carrot in front of me by saying they knew a lady who had a blog that taught the isometrics of connecting post partum abs together...yet try as I might I cannot find that blog. HELP! you don't understand. I had a really big baby inside of me (not to mention that my stomach was literally cut open) so my abdominals are now little floating islands of muscle amidst a sea of mushy skin and fat.

Did I offend you by talking so openly about my body? Did I make you not want to have children? Such is life. You can't please everyone. But babies really are awesome and snuggly.