Ugly Belly is Back!!

Fall TV Line-up Missing This One

By Sue Tabb

This time of year always brings me renewed energy and joy, but it’s not the crisp air, spectacular foliage or possibilities of a new academic year; it’s the opportunity to be sucked in to yet another new television show that will allow me to recklessly fritter away what little free time I have.

As I review this year’s list of new fall programming, however, I notice a glaring omission. While there is a plethora of advertising for the return of “Ugly Betty,” I do not see anything for the obvious spin-off series, starring me, called “Ugly Belly.”

Yes, I have an ugly belly, and I’m not afraid to admit it publicly. Nor are my children, who feel compelled to share the news about Ugly Belly with absolutely every living creature they come in contact with. The cashier at Market Basket has been told about my rippled midsection. The bus driver is also aware. I’m sure the teachers at their school have heard graphic reports – maybe they’ve even seen pictures.

You see, as a mother, I am not entitled to any privacy nor am I allowed to feel good about any part of my body. If, even for an instant, I think that I might look half-way decent, my children will dispel the myth immediately. And they don’t feel the need to sugarcoat the message in any way. It is a swift and cutting delivery of the painful truth, as in: “Mom, how come your stomach is so wrinkly and squishy?”

Bam. A shot that ruins my chances of ever wearing a two-piece bathing suit or any clothing that doesn’t feature a Lycra “tummy flattening” panel. I am now painfully aware that I must purchase clothing marked: flattering for any body shape (meaning not an ideal one). And at no time, under any circumstances, even in dim lighting, will a view of my stomach be anything but repulsive to anyone within eye shot.

The ironic part of the whole thing is that my daughters really don’t see any correlation between my stomach’s condition and their arrival on this planet. I have tried to point it out to them, in subtle ways. I show them photos of Mom about 10 years ago with a nice flat tummy, frolicking among the waves in Aruba. My…ahem…10-year-old is astonished. “That’s you? Really? You look so different.”

No kidding. You could see my belly button then.

And while I wouldn’t trade my kids for anything, I sure would trade this pouch for something that resembles a stomach. But a tummy tuck is not cheap. I have consulted the Consumer Guide to Plastic Surgery (who knew?) and the fee ranges from about $5,000-$8,000 based on amounts, as in “the more skin and fat to be removed, the longer the surgical time requirement, and the higher the cost.”

So I’m looking at about 10 grand. And I’m thinking of holding a fundraiser. Why not? I mean kids sell wrapping paper and candy and all sorts of things to raise money for various activities. This is an activity that will allow me to look at myself naked without wincing.

I figure I need to sell about 4,783 candy bars or 1,500 rolls of wrapping paper to reach my target. Yes, it’s an aggressive goal but it’ll be worth it if I can shake my Rip Van Wrinkle nickname.

But it’s always smart to have a plan “B” and, assuming people won’t fall for my “Ugly Belly” promotion, I will have to come up with some creative ways to hide my midsection going forward or do the dreaded … exercise.

Based on my current track record, three times to the gym in the past four years, I think I’ll be buying loose-fitting tops and staying away from the following jobs: Belly dancer, New England Patriots cheerleader, Victoria’s Secret underwear model and Gisele Bundchen body double.

Since I’m not even in the running for any of the above jobs, well … would you like to buy a candy bar? It’s for a good cause.