This past Sunday I was getting dressed for church and my favorite ‘church skirt’ wouldn’t zip. It had just recently become my favorite, transitioning from my ‘fat skirt’ somewhere around July. My husband, bless his heart, just shrugged and said “We’ll get you a bigger size.”
I shrieked “I will NOT get a bigger size!” and rightfully slammed the bathroom door in his face refusing to go to church at all.
Later that day, after luring me out with a Hershey’s Kiss, we made our way to the store for some new clothes. There were so many beautiful skits, slacks, and even ‘good butt’ jeans on the racks. I was grabbing things left and right, deeply meshed in my retail therapy. I floated off to the dressing room to see how good my butt really was going to look in those new jeans.
It didn’t take long to realize, standing there with these tiny jeans struggling against one thigh – no way in heck the other leg was gonna make it in there – that I’d now graduated from cute outfits to big girl pants. With a face redder than the candy apple blouse in my hand, I placed every article of cuteness back on their respective racks. Then I turned and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the walk of shame to the back Plus Size racks.
Oh the humanity! It was as if I crossed a threshhold in time and was firmly planted back in the 80s. Not, mind you, the cute tube tops and spangly bracelet 80s. No, this was the pastel blue terry cloth one piece jumper that covered every inch of my body from chin to shin 80s. A time when mom jeans started at the bottom rib and left plenty of kangaroo puch room.
With work and kids, I admit that plying myself off the couch to do anything besides pee was unheardof. However, I’d been making up for it by watching what I ate, or so I thought. The Middle Age Spread had found its way to my middle, and boy did it spread! I was now mom instead of MILF. It was a seemless and scarily comfortable transition.
There once was a time when I had it going on. I was hot. I was young. I was active. I was able to stay up past 9. Really, I was all of those things and more. Now, by God, I will be those things again! Maybe not the staying up past 9 part. I mean, mommy needs her sleep. But the rest of it, by God!
What’s a Girl to Do?
Back before I zoned out on the couch every day, I was outside playing with the kids. I was walking the dog. I was going to the beach. (I’ll admit the main thing keeping me from the beach this year was laziness. Shaving legs is hard!)
Monday morning bright and early I dragged myself out of bed, scrunchied up my unruly mop of hair, and slid on my sandals. I made my way outside and walked around my block for about 30 minutes before the sun finally decided to join me. After the walk I did feel better, for a while. By the end of the day, however, my legs were killing me! I still forced myself to get up again on Tuesday, then Wednesday and Thursday – today – and you know what? I don’t want to die anymore!
I’m not brave (stupid) enough to look at a scale. I’ll take my weight loss in tiny baby steps. This Sunday I’ll cross my fingers and pull that ‘favorite fat skirt’ out of the closet and hope for the best.
Wanna Walk With Me?
In my previous life I was very meticulous about what I ate and what exercise I did. I even found some great tool to keep myself motivated. I’m starting them again, one at a time, to ease myself back into healthy living. My husband loves my curves so I don’t have to stress about being a size 2. But I’d still love to have the energy to play outside with the kids again. Here’s how I’m going to do it, and if you’d like to join me, come on!