Growing up I was considered athletic, sturdy, had some baby-fat, etc. I never thought about weight at all. At age 19 I decided that I wanted to be thinner as I had put on a few pounds. At my peak I was a size 12. I just wanted all clothes to fit. I didn’t diet; I just decided to eat less.
I ate everything; just not a ton of it and the weight came off. Yes, it took time, but each month the results showed. It was great. I was very proud. I am not the type to go to a gym and lose it all there, but I parked my car farther away, walked instead of rode at the golf course. You see?
I got down to a size 2 and remained there until I had Emily. I gained 60 pounds with her, but then slowly the weight came off again and I was back to a size 2. It took almost 2 years.
French bread, mashed potatoes, shakes, cookies. I eat it all, but in moderation. I never deny myself anything. Well… except fried food – never have been a huge fan. McDonalds? Yes, but maybe 3 times a year.
Then I had Sarah. Again, I put on 60 pounds. This time it came off quicker. Most likely because I was much busier with 2 kids. When she turned 9months old, I was back into my size 2 jeans. However, with the increased activity of running around with 2 kids, the weight kept coming off so when Fall hit again, my size 2’s were very loose. I got down to a size zero.
I waited a while before succumbing to buying new jeans, I mean I had worked hard to find great jeans and I really hate buying new ones. But I did it and I was a size zero. I am not going to lie; it put a smile on my face. It was cool. Notice the use of past tense in that last sentence.
However, last year when I was a size 0 I also seemed to get every single cold that Emily and Tyler brought home and that was not fun. So this September I had a brilliant idea. I thought that I would try to eat more and put on a few pounds, maybe then I would not get sick.
But I got sick anyway!!!!!!!
My experiment did not work.
So now I am well and I put real clothes on today after like 12 days of being sick and I had to squish myself into my jeans. Ok, they do fit, but there is a roll of fat popping out at the waist and that is not good.
So now, not only am I behind on Christmas and everything else, I do not fit into my jeans. Boo hoo.
I know, I know…. I am probably not getting much sympathy right now. My mother got mad at me when I moaned to her. But I don’t care. I have a 3-legged dog, a MIL who is ill, my Christmas tree still isn’t up and I can’t fit into my clothes. Cut me some slack.
Tyler, you are right. Sometimes I just should not think.