My “fat pants” are patiently waiting in the closet for me. No, that is not a metaphor. I own a pair of jeans that I lovely call my “fat pants.” I know I’m not the only woman in the world out there that owns a particular pair of bottoms that only get worn every few weeks, you know, when you have that bloated cow feeling.
Just the idea of anything tight around your middle makes you want to grab a few pain killers and chew them so they dissolve faster, anything to make the pain quickly go away. They are the pants that warn your friends and family that you are PMSing and if they want to continue breathing they will tread carefully around you.
Thankfully, my readers do not know my shape or weight so I’m not going to get the look that tells me to shut up because someone my size has no idea what extra weight is all about. I do believe though that I admitted in an earlier blog that at one point in my life I wore a size 14 or 16 while standing only 4’11”. That was me during junior high. There’s no way around that one but to say I was short and round. Luckily, I did not stay that size but I do know what it feels like to be packin’ some extra pounds around. So there I stood, about a year ago when my “fat pants” became the “I can’t believe I outgrew my fat pants” jeans.
Not fitting into my PMSing pants turned out to be just the tip of the iceberg. Pretty soon afterwards, some work tops and bottoms took up residence alongside those jeans. Eventually, every article of clothing I owned that looked nice enough for me to wear publicly found their place in the closet. Sk would never let me wear my pajama bottoms to church so I bought a few items, larger items, that did not make me look like a stuffed sausage.
I tried not to be too hard on myself. Sk was amazingly supportive. She even said she preferred me with a little extra padding but I was not happy with myself. In my personal pep talks, I pointed out that I quit smoking and most people gain weight with that process. True. Around that same time, my thyroid gland planned a revolt against my body. Again, weight gain is a side effect. True. I stopped using these
excuses several months ago, even though my doctors are still trying to get my thyroid levels regulated and they warned me that loosing weight would be difficult. Worse still, I knew how I gained the twenty pounds. It was from all that late night snacking when I could not sleep, thanks again thyroid gland. That and not exercising enough.
So, after months of watching how much I eat in the evenings and exercising more, I am so proud to announce that once again my “fat pants” fit. I couldn’t believe it and on the first Sunday of the football season! I knew that day would be special, and it was. My ever understanding gal pal let me skip church. My two favorite teams came back in the fourth quarter to win their games. And my jeans didn’t just fit, there was plenty of wriggle room in there. If you didn’t know any better you might just think I was looking forward to next month when I will need those comfy bottoms; and you would be wrong.