No, this isn’t an admission of fake scale pictures (despite my Photoshop prowess, I don’t think I could *actually* do that…), I’m talking about the ways in which I’ve tried to hide the extra weight that I’ve put on.
Only I see the sad little dance to fit into my pants every morning. Only I see the deep red marks they leave in my gut after a long day. Only I have to deal with the seams that reach their breaking point from being stretched too far and for too long. I even had a conversation with my adorable little dad the other day who was shocked to hear that I’m in the 160s. But then again, this is the man who didn’t believe me when I said I told him that I weighed more than him at one point…
Generally people just see me in lycra and hoodies. God bless lululemon and their stretchy pants for giving me the ability to go out most days, but it’s not right, I tells ya! The pants have a function, and it is NOT every day wear. I know this. But they’re the things that fit so that’s what I gravitate to. Sadly (or on the plus side, depends on what you think my ass looks like in these pants), yoga pants and hoodies aren’t exactly business casual, so I’ve had to dig out the cardigans to hide bulges and bits that don’t want to stay confined under what pants and shirts I have that “fit.”
But why do I have to do this? Why can’t I just suck it up, go buy the RIGHT size clothing for my current weight and be COMFORTABLE in them like I am in yoga pants?
I am stuck in a single digit size mindset.
I’m lucky that I kept a few pairs of pants that were a 10 just because I liked how loose and comfy they were, but now they’re definitely painted on. I know it’s not a pretty sight but I think that I’m just too scared to go shopping.
I mean, do I pick up a size 12 or will I be a 14? Do I have to find something with stretch to go over my thighs? Will the sales people sneer at me when I ask them to find me a bigger size because I’m so frickin clueless? Will I discover that I am actually back to a plus size? Will everyone hear me if I start sobbing uncontrollably?
It’s so sad that vanity has taken hold of me to the point where I am afraid to shop. I’m a woman for crying out loud! This is our sport! Our favourite pastime! I should be out there with conviction, direction and confidence, armed with a ridiculous amount of plastic to swipe and weighted down by bags o’plenty. Instead, I’m a deer caught in headlights, standing at the threshold nervously, debating whether or not to enter each store.
WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME?!
But I have to remember that the "pain” of this is temporary. That I’m on my
weigh way back down. Things may be tight for awhile, but I can’t deny the fact that I’m putting myself back on track and things will fit again.
I WILL be able to shop in my own closet again.