After reading the deliciously funny bit I have linked above here, it reminded me of a discussion I had in passing with my teenage son years ago.
I was in the midst of a body-hating month, and while flipping bored through People magazine ( my bible at that time in my life), I mentioned that I would give anything to have Janet Jackson’s abs. There was a picture of her in some costume performing at one of her concerts. No exaggeration here, that gal had abs of steel. Perfect six-pack, in fact. Maybe an eight-pack, even.
It was one of those comments that I threw out in a day and forgot about within three minutes, likely.
Fast forward almost a year, and I walk to my fridge one day to grab something to munch on. There, stuck to my fridge with cheery souvenir magnets, was a picture of Janet Jackson torn out of a magazine. She looked to be about 220 pounds, was slouching along the street in a red hoodie and a pair of rather tight sweatpants, which were doing zero for her hips and thighs.
Written in black sharpie in the corner of the picture was my son’s comment, ” Look Mom! Your wish came true! You have Janet Jackson’s abs!!!!”