“I promised myself I would have lost the baby weight by now. I have to be able to fit into these shorts this summer,” I told myself.

I glanced inside my shorts and there it was; that lonely single digit number on the tag was staring me down. Again. But after two weeks of painfully putting on my too-small of shorts, I finally decided enough was enough.

So I went to Target.

And I bought a pair of shorts that were two sizes up.

A pair of shorts that were in the double digits.

And when I got home and effortlessly put that pair of shorts on, here’s what I found out.

The number on the tag of my shorts did not make me any less of a mom. In fact, I could now get down on the floor easier to do puzzles, and play Barbies, and wrestle with my kids and my butt crack wasn’t hanging out (major mom win).

The number on the tag of my shorts did not make me any less of a wife. My husband has never once mentioned or looked at the size of my shorts. He still smacks my rear when I walk past him in the hall because whether or not my pant size has one or two numbers, he still thinks I’m a hot mama.

The number on the inside of my shorts doesn’t make me any less comfortable. For the record, I can now comfortably take a picture without feeling the need to suck in and eat a cupcake without fear that the button on my waste line might pop off. My shorts actually fit. And it’s glorious.

The number on the tag of my shorts doesn’t make me any less beautiful. As it turns out, the bigger sized shorts actually keep the extra parts of me that weren’t there before all tucked in and smoothed out, making me much more comfortable when trying to put together an outfit. I feel pretty in them!

And lastly, the number on the tag of my shorts doesn’t make me any less of a woman. At the end of the day, my body, this temporary home for my children, is an absolute miracle. And if bringing my kids into this world means sizing my pants up to the double digits for a season, then size me up girl friend. I’ll take those double digit shorts any day.