A Brilliant Example of Me Being Stupid.

My pride is a huge beast.

My disgust of my own body is just as big.

Put them together and mix in some awesome examples of dumbness-  and you have what I figured out today. It is almost too embarrassing to share.

But I’m going to share it with you anyway.

I’m fat.  I’ve been this way for a long time.  I’d like to do something about it, I have always said someday…  Someday I would take care of this, er, not so little problem.  July 2008 I joined weight watchers.  I swam EVERY day.  I walked several days a week.  I lost 42 pounds and dropped two sizes.  I bought a pair of jeans in a size I hadn’t seen in a while.  And then in quick succession I got pregnant, lost that baby, and got pregnant again.  I was so sad, and then so tired.  My new healthy habits just flew right out the window.

After Cooper was born, I managed to get back into those jeans. They were tight, but I could wear them.  Over the past six months I’ve continued to do all the things that helped me pack on the pounds.  I’ve made all the same excuses- until two weeks ago when I realized that the jeans were just TOO TIGHT.  And I’d have to go and get the next size up.  I was sad and embarrassed, and already feeling like a failure when I walked into the store.

I asked the sales associate for my (next size up) size jean, boot cut dark wash, and when she asked if I’d like to try them on- I laughed.  I said “oh no! I know they’ll be fine…” and marched up to the check out.  Then I asked if she’d cut the tags off so I could put them on right then- and trotted into a changing room.  I love new clothes.  Even though I was there buying a bigger size, I was cheerful at the thought of spanky new jeans.

When I pulled them on, I had a problem.

They stretched over my thighs.

They barely went on over my butt.

They. Would not zip.  Never mind button.

I sucked my gut in.  I squeezed and tugged.  Not happening.

I was frozen in indecision.  I didn’t know what to do.  I had already paid and the tags had been removed. I made a big deal about how of course they would fit. And they didn’t.  My pride wouldn’t let me actually tell anyone that they didn’t.  I refused to be that girl.  The girl who insists she is a size far below reality.

So I tugged my sweatshirt down over my gaping pants and walked out.

By the time I got to the car I wanted to cry, I was so ashamed.  I couldn’t believe I had gone so far backwards.  I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

By the time we got home I was in tears, because my pants were so tight I was actually in pain.

I was depressed for days.

I felt like such a failure.

And then last Wednesday I was packing up my room and found the jeans where I had left them- rolled into a ball and tossed into a corner- and when I held them, trying to decide what to do with them…

They fell open and displayed the tag.  And I realized they were TWO SIZES SMALLER than the ones I needed.

I had been trying to squeeze myself into the WRONG SIZE.

I couldn’t believe I never checked the tag!  I mean, how dumb is THAT!  It never even occurred to me that the size might be wrong.  I just assumed it was me, getting even fatter.  What does that say about how I think of myself?

Witchy Words of wisdom:  ALWAYS double check the size.

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