The state of my stomach skin

My stomach skin provides all the support of a wet paper bag.

Yes, I knew that after a gastric bypass I wouldn't look like an ab-roller commercial. I was okay with that. I didn't harbor any secret fantasies about this.

And yes, I realized there would be some sagging skin after losing nearly half my body weight. Some saggage, I could handle. I deal with pcos every day, and that has robbed me of most of whatever vanity I possessed during my youth.

And of course, I didn't expect my subsequent pregnancy to improve the situation on my stomach any. At least I wasn't disappointed on this count. Pregnancy did indeedy make my already-horrific looking stomach skin even more crepe-y, crinkly, and droopy. I was mildly surprised (okay, maybe relieved is the more correct word) that Dr. Grandfatherly Genius was able to a) actually able to find the correct spot for my c-section incision, and b) that my completely tired out skin managed to heal from said incision.

I actually have pants now that I don't wear, not because I can't fit into them (although I have pants like that too) but because my stomach skin hangs over the waist band! Actually hangs there, flappin' in the breeze like a banner advertising my former fatness. Just to be perfectly clear, the overhang is not caused from flab, mind you, (although there is just a bit of that there), but from having zero-elasticity left. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. It's only a matter of time before the not-so-elegant drape of skin reaches to my knees, the law of gravity is bound to work on that eventually. Another somewhat surprising aspect is that my freakish stomach appearance phases my kids not at all. It periodically crosses my mind to wonder why they don't ask about it, since they're certainly quite entranced by my cesarean scar.

I don't have any insurance coverage for plastic or "reconstructive" surgery. Like I could be brave enough for that anyway--pulling together this sodden mass would have to hurt like a bitch and I'm too much of a wimp. And dh and I aren't rich like that (this issue covered in an earlier bitch session), so we can't afford to pay out of pocket for it. Dh has the idea to pimp me out to "Trash can of skin" or "extreme makeover", but I'm just too shy for crap like that.

So I guess I'll just continue to deal with tucking the saggage into my control top hose. As dh likes to point out, it's certainly better than having all that skin full of fat, as it once was. He's never been fat though, so sometimes comments like that piss me off. But he tries to be supportive. It would just be more helpful if he could take some crash course in at-home plastic surgery.

I know, saggage is not so bad actually, as problems go. It's just so hideously unattractive.

But I can still bitch about it.

Yeah, like you didn't already know that.