In one of my more fabulous moments, I was watching TV with Hambone last night with my shirt riding up over my belly.
Hambone commented that it looked like I had a stretch mark or three on my belly. Horrified, I denied it and claimed it was simply a red mark from the elastic on my shorts.
Before I went to bed, I checked for myself, and sure enough, three of these offensive little buggers had taken up residence on the dark side of my belly (the part I can't see unless I use a mirror)
This morning I looked at my belly in the mirror, and LO and BEHOLD, during the night the underside of my belly became a fairly accurate representation of a map of the Mississippi River Delta. Seriously, there are more than thirty stretch marks down there.
And here I thought I'd make it with my belly skin in tact. Heh. Think again...