I call her Tonya.

I call her Tonya.  I’m not sure why.  I guess she just seems like a Tonya.  Now that I think about it, I’ve never actually met a Tonya.  Anyway, she’s with me everyday.  Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.  I grow very tired of looking at her day in and day out.  But I don’t make her leave either.  She reminds me of the terrible.  More specifically, being pregnant with them. 

She reminds me of the c section I had to get them out of me.  The fears before hand and the joys of hearing their giant screams for the first time.  She reminds me of the pain before and after.

Tonya is my twin skin.  My rolls of stretch marks and scars.  A reminder of battle my body went through to bring life to these two, amazing, energetic little boys.  A reminder of what was and what is now.  (I was no super model before).

Sure there are days (more then I’d like to admit), that Tonya and I fight.  I do my best to hide her and cover her up.  Some days I curse her every existence and other days I just say fuck it, what’s up, Tonya.  Most days I don’t even really think about her too much.  (I don’t have time to be overly critical of myself). I really just focus on the basics, brushing my hair, teeth, bathing, shaving my legs.  To worry about what Tonya is doing is a bit of a luxury these days.

So really what I’m saying is ladies, give her a name.  Become one with your twin skin.  Eat healthy, exercise but if she’s not going to go away, embrace her.

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I mean come on!!! She is the result of these two stinking cute tornados.

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