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We all have our problems that obsess us out of all proportion. I call mine: The paunch. It accompanies me, unfortunately, everywhere, although sometimes I notice more than others: when I buckle my seat belt, or put on my go-to pants from two summers ago, or do a sit up. (Just kidding, I never do a sit up!) It's my post-baby paunch, and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere. After the first baby it all just kind of melted away. And after the second baby, I don't know what went wrong. I mean, my diet is approximately 95% bagels, I don't get enough sleep, and I suffer the aforementioned sit-up allergy. And yet... there it stays, kind of cute but not exactly, just a bit extra, a soft little uninvited 10-lb pet.

The other day I was feeling bummed about the paunch, and was glumly considering my options.  I asked my neighbor, who's a personal trainer, where I should start. "Three minutes running, three minutes..." "Crying?" I guessed. "Um, no. Walking. No crying." A run in the 90 degree heat? Okay. I immediately went to air-conditioned cafe and the thing is they have these really special donuts.

Evening plans: shame spiral.

Then I was talking to my husband, and moaning about the paunch, and a thought struck me: I love this problem. Don't get me wrong, it's a problem. If there's one thing I hate more than working out, it's shopping for clothes, so never getting back to my normal size is out of the question. But I am so mindblowingly lucky that this is my problem. I mean, I'm not talking the-mom-in-What's-Eating-Glibert-Grape obesity here. And I'm not starving either. I mean: Hooray! It's just a non-delicious muffin top! That's not to say I want to keep it around, but it did occur to me that if I treated my problem with loving kindness, or more accurately, an amused detachment, it's possible that I would have less angst and more energy to combat it. Like, instead of feeling depleted by it, I should be thankful for it. Hey, baby weight! Wasn't that fun when you served a purpose? Guess what, buddy? The baby's out! The baby walks and talks! So, listen, you know what you might really enjoy, is this, it's called "salad"!  How lucky, to have this paunch around to convince me to exercise!

What's your paunch? -- that little problem annoying your subconscious all day? A small debt piling up on the Victoria's Secret credit card you refuse to believe you even have? A kitchen that seems to mess itself up when you're sleeping? A sense that your blah haircut is the key to all your life's inadequacies? Trust me, I know that there are big problems that are hard to love: bankruptcy, disease, bangs that refuse to grow out gracefully. But maybe if we can remember to treat our paunch-like problems with love, we can remember that it's actually kind of fun to, I don't know, run for three minutes.

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