I AM a badass in mom jeans

I woke up to a comment that kind of hurt. "Sorry, but  no one has ever looked badass in mom jeans." You know what, trapper? In the history of gross underestimation, that's close to the top of the list. Regardless of whether a woman is wearing low rise, mid rise, leather, or yoga pants (I just visualized the obscene flashing resulting from hooking a large caliber handgun onto a pair of yoga pants), if she has made the choice to arm herself and accept responsibility for being the first line of defense for herself and her kids (if she has kids), then you'd better believe she's a badass.

I'm a 48-year-old woman, mom of two, and I have the body that goes with it. I've had two emergency c-sections, given birth to 20 pounds of human being. I have stretch marks and surgical scars and will never look good in a bikini or tummy baring anything. I am 200 pounds of solid, working mom muscle wrapped in a soft, squishy layer of momminess. And you can probably account for 25-30 pounds in massive brains and bodacious boobs. But trust me, no one wants to see me squeeze into a pair of low-rise jeans. I could, I see women of my age and body type desperately trying to cling to youth, but I choose to dress for comfort, functionality and modesty. Mid-rise mom jeans, c-section scars and muffintop covered and secured. 

I choose to carry a weapon. And now I've chosen to carry a motherfucking 1911 .45. 

And I will drop anyone who threatens me or my cute chicks. 

So I would say that alone makes me a badass in mom jeans.