I'm not claiming that I’ve ever had a fabulous body. I’ve always had ham-hock thighs and a big ass. However, for better or worse, my body has always gotten me from A to B without much trouble. Now, after three babies, I’m thinking that my ham-hock thighs might be my best feature. The rest of me looks like I’ve been pressed through a meat grinder and put back together again - all mushy and quite lumpy. And there isn’t a toning exercise in the world that can cure this type of lumpy - the only remedy for this is a surgeon exercising his scalpel. I’m proud that my body gave me such beautiful children, but the aftermath, well, it ain’t so pretty. I’ll break it down for you - and I’ll break it down real honest. My breasts, which once sat nicely on my chest, are now reaching south and resemble tube socks with rolls of dimes in the bottom. My stomach looks like a deflated balloon. My husband likes to say it looks like an orange peel. I think it’s more like a sagging chicken cutlet. Forget all those pamphlets they give you at the doctor about how your baby is growing and how to eat properly. What they should be handing out is a brochure with some nice before and after body shots. This idea should be SERIOUSLY examined. According to my very scientific research, and by scientific, I mean I’m making it up, about half of postpartum depression could be cured if women were given a warning like - “HEY! Kiss your tight tush goodbye! Meet cellulite!” In fact, this brochure could serve as a public service announcement of sorts and surely solve the teen pregnancy crisis. One look at my stomach could stop an entire epidemic. Yes, we’ve all seen Heidi Klum scanter down the Victoria’s Secret runway mere minutes after giving birth and her breasts aren’t hitting the floor, nor are her arms flapping like windsocks. Yet, she is a supermodel - a genetic freak. She should be put in a test-tube and studied - not put out like bait on a hook - a pipe dream on a runway - saying “Buy this underwear - my ass is attainable.” Attainable my ass. If Victoria’s Secret wants to sell more underwear, show me a woman who is 5’3” with cellulite whose ass looks that good in their underwear and I’ll fork over the $30, but until then I’ll be giving my $5 to Fruit of the Loom, because they make no false promises. They give it to you straight - panties in a plastic bag - no hype, just on sale at Walmart.