The incredible case of the vanishing boobies and other horror stories by She of the bushy eyebrows.

So my dearest little princess remarked last night: "Mommy I like your little body" - I was busy sneaking in a shower while she was in the bath. I hugged her and thanked her for being such a charming good mannered kid. The next moment she press her finger to my belly and giggles: "Your tummy is fat mommy!" Charming my dear, charming. So I peeked at the mirror, just to once again , well, -let's just say, sigh - not a pretty picture.

At least my hair is cut, coloured and high-lighted recently - after a 9 weeks pause, believe me it was just necessary. My natural colour now seam to be grayish mouse brown, not a reddish brown. What the hec, I have no idea what my actual hair colour is or used to be. Now it is Wella no whatever with streaks of no whatelse - my dear hairgoddess Mariette has it all written down on a little card - and it works for us. While there I thought I'll get a quick eyebrow shape from the beautician, but my brow was throbbing with sinus pressure so to save her from a terrible injury inflicted by me, I canceled. The result is not exactly Jack Nicholson, but definitely Brooke Shield's 80's caterpillar.

Off course at 40 the lines are starting to show -and really, I have a basic routine, but no working mom of 3 has the time or money to do all the potions and lotions you need. At least due to carrying three kids around the biceps are not too bad and they seem to counterbalance the underarm flab just a little.

Moving southwards, or maybe a bit more southwards than they used to be is, what? WHERE ARE MY BOOBIES? I have recently noticed that my bras are a bit under stuffed and decided to do one of the 3 most dreaded shopping trips – the new swimming costume, new jeans and a bra fitting. She measures me and say:” Try the 38 B and C and see which one fits better.” Thought I heard her wrong – “You mean the C and D”, I say. “No B she says as in bra, not D as in donkey”. Hmm, I am feeling a bit like a donkey too. Great stuff – the B is too small but the C fits well – there is a small fold in the fabric but thank goodness, it is a C. I used to be a very nice and firm D or DD, I used to love my boobies, now well it seems that breastfeeding 3 kids for a year each really just sucked it dry – literally. But with my new bras, at least the southwards is less noticeable. No boob job considered yet.

Off course, the bum is also not as pert as it used to be, previously nice and tight from hours of riding. Now it slumps downwards (that bitch called gravity should be burned at the stake), with none of the nice roundness it used to have. The jeans tend to slip off the bums, just to be held up by – off course, the tummy.

Which brings us to the center of the evil of body image.You know that little C-section roll right at the bottom of you tummy? I can deal with it just fine You can hide it. A tanktini works well. A tight jean works. A long top too. It is the bulge above the belly button around the ribs that is getting to me. It pops open buttons, there is not way to hide it and it prompts nice preggy remarks from cashiers in shops. I hate it.

So while visiting my trusty gynea last year I asked her about it. She pokes around and remarks that after, what she calls and extreme pregnancy – I carried over 6 kg ( 13,3 pounds)of baby, plus all the odds and ends involved – the muscles can tear away towards the side of your body, leaving very little to keep your organs tightly in place. I addition, there are heaps of excess skin – at our age skin is not as elastic and does not shrink back like a younger woman's would. I am also 8 kg (17,6 pounds) lighter than when I fell pregnant with The Boys which just pronounces this much more as the rest of the body is lean. So she remarks:”I'd suggest a mommy tuck – here's the number of a good plastic surgeon. Tell your hubby it would make a nice anniversary present. Angelina had one done with her twin's c-section, but I would not recommend that” WHAT! I thought she might suggest some pilates! Then I think, tummy tuck vs 10 year anniversary honeymoon in Mauritius, I'd be sunning myself with my boep (tummy) any day! And as my hubby lovingly said, rubbing over said tummy while watching TV, I am the prettiest woman in the world – bugger you Angelina - you might have Brad, I have Hunter! Someone call the Pope – this man is a saint.