After staying with my mother for one night and listening to how I should leave his sorry ass. I went back home. I went back home because I knew I hadn't been perfect in our relationship.
I was focused and determined to find the old me under all this extra skin and baby weight. The twins weren't even two weeks old.
I was already starting to feel like I had failed them.
With my son I breastfed for an entire year. I couldn't even make it a month with the twins.
Everything I excelled at with my son I failed miserably with the twins.
Gone was my self-esteem.
The twins took every bit of my energy and any desire I once had to look a certain way. I just didn't care anymore.
One day I woke up and I cared.
Okay, so I had a little belly I never had before. I had two options. Either I could pull myself together and get my body back. Or I could do nothing and let it get worse.
I was on a mission. I even started working out with Eric in the morning.
No matter what I did the belly bulge wasn't going anywhere. I didn't care because somehow while working out I started feeling better about myself.
Maybe it was seeing all the women in the gym in way worse shape than I, who didn't just push out a set of twin girls.
One night my girlfriend Cynthia called and asked if I wanted to go with her to a bar to see a band play. I dusted off my sexiest pumps and met Cynthia at the bar.
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