An email from BabyCenter recently made a bold entry into my inbox.

The title? Why You May Still Look Pregnant. A direct –  and dare I say aggressive  – missive? Bless their sadistic little hearts.

I signed up for BabyCenter’s updates when I was pregnant with my little BumbleB. Though I barely had time to dwell on the second little pumpkin inside my belly, and was more concerned with getting her OUT of me than reading the Velveteen Rabbit to her in utero, I enjoy skimming their weekly nuggets of developmental claptrap.

But this? Is BabyCenter a front for a sinister cabal of shadowy figures cloned from my mother? My mother, who couldn’t stop staring in horror at the size of my pregnant arse, as if I didn’t already have a J Lo complex in my 7th month?

Has BabyCenter installed a hidden camera above my bathroom mirror, capturing images of me trying to suck in my belly as I slowly realize that it’s forming elephant-trunk like WRINKLES as I do so?  Or has the BabyCenter cabal set up surveillance in my kitchen, as I sit down to eat, ever so gracefully with my top button undone, forcing a smile as the boychild comes over to pat my muffin top like a house pet?

Oh BabyCenter. Will you stop at nothing to get me to see the error of my chocolate scarfing ways?

To add insult to injury, I am turning 40 this year (cue primal scream.) Yes, yes, I know, it’s a milestone. I’m soon to graduate from my thirties a wiser, more compassionate, stronger human being. I’m also a candidate for Adderall. And Valium. And while I can’t wait to get together with my dearest girlfriends to celebrate with wild nights of champagne and tequila, the fact that I tend to get drunk after one glass of mulled wine does not bode well for raucous nights on the town.

But back to the flab. What to do?  I’ve resolved not to let myself go completely.  There will be no turkey necks and permanently expanded waistlines for me. I’m far too vain.

The time has come to try to do something about it. To try (let’s manage our expectations, people.) For I’ve finally realized that though a short walk to Old Navy and back with baby B in the ergo to return a damaged onesie may be working the quads, it’s doing nada for the abs.

Tips? Suggestions? Other than liposuction?

I should be grateful, I suppose. The email could have said “Why you may still look fat.”  But BabyCenter, in future I advise a gentler approach.  Lie a little. Flatter. Try something like “Curves are where it’s at, mama.”

Mothers everywhere will praise you.