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“Stop it. All that negative self-talk is just cringy. You’re gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to catch you.”
I glance over at the mirror again. It’s been a while since I gave an ounce of energy to my appearance.
“All I see is an exhausted mom.”
“Then, you need to put some glasses on and take another look. Now, change out of your walk-of-shame clothes and throw some lip gloss on, and let’s go. Leona is waiting for us to drop off the bebe.”
We walk into the brewery and find the rest of the girls seated at a table by the door.
“Hey, pull up a chair,” Erin greets.
Both Brandee and I grab empty seats from other tables and join them.
“Look at you, all dolled up. If I had known we were doing that, I would have worn my bedazzled T-shirt,” Erin says.
“She made me,” I grumble.
“Made you?”
“Yep, it was time for an intervention,” Brandee says as she flags down a waitress.
“What kind of intervention?” Jena asks.
I roll my eyes. “I made the mistake of telling her that I don’t feel sexy anymore. Like Kaela broke me and I’ll never be presentable again,” I explain.
“Oh, please. A woman’s vagina is the most resilient contraption on earth,” Jena quips.
“I was talking about my stretch marks and tummy pooch, but thank you for making me question the aesthetic state of my lady bits. I needed that insecurity floating around in my head,” I tell her.
“Whatever. Men don’t give a damn about that stuff. Do you think they are worried about a few stretch marks when they get you naked? No, they are thinking,Yay, I have a naked girl beside me,” Erin says.
“Maybe.”
“Nomaybeabout it. Let’s get a man’s opinion.”
She waves one of the guys at the table beside us over.
“What do you think of my friend here?” she asks, gesturing toward me.
“Erin!” I cry.
The guy smiles and takes a knee between us.
“Why? Are you single?” he asks.
“She is. But that’s not the question. Would you want to see her naked?” she asks him.
His brows shoot up. “Of course,” he replies.
“She’s had a baby. She might have a few scars and a bit of a muffin top. Still interested?”
“Yeah,” he says as he grins at me.
“So, you don’t care if she isn’t perfect?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, thanks. You can go back to your table now.”
