Ok, I have gained some weight in the past few years, not gradually either. More specifically a lot of weight in the last three years. I now have a "muffin top", and my butt and thighs look like they belong on a woman who eats McDonald's crap everyday. How did this happen? Is there a limit to the amount of fat that will congeal on my butt? And now I need to buy some new jeans. But when I'm out shopping all I see are jeans for other women. Women with no waists or thighs. Women with "low cracks" who can wear low rise jeans. I apparently have a "high crack", which looks really bad looming above the waistband when I barely bend over. This isn't a good look on a teenager, and it definitely isn't something anyone wants to see on a woman over forty-or-fifty-something.
And who the hell thinks women who wear a size 14 and up should wear "skinny jeans"? This is not a style that should be marketed, nor encouraged, to this size range. There are shows on TV that will throw this jean style out of your closet if you wear a larger size.
I am trying to find jeans that do not shout to the world that... yes, I have let myself go to hell. I used to run. A lot, and long distances. I eat treats like I am still running 8 miles a day. For some reason, I thought my body had a "weight limit". That I would reach that limit and the weight gain would stop. I have begun to reassess that line of thinking since I am over what I thought my limit would be. I now see a future involving elastic waist “easy and care-free” pants. Pants that have enough fabric to cover the mound of fat that will be bulging below and above my waist. Will I be the woman who shops in the "Women's" section - no longer welcome in the "Misses" section and decades past the "Juniors" section?
My brain still wants to dress up in something short and clingy. Something I could buy at Forever 21 or Banana Republic. But of course, I do have principles and some semblance of style, and won’t subject the public to my body in those clothes. No, I’ll just simply smile as the Teenager tries on anything trendy and looks fabulous. And yes, I did check out the "Plus" section at Forever 21, before I had a reality check and remembered the name of the store and that those days were over and long gone.
I have begun to hate shopping. I can't find anything I want to wear that looks good on the current body I am inhabiting. Perhaps that is my problem...I think I am just temporarily inhabiting this current body, and that somehow, if I just “think” of exercising tomorrow and “think” of not eating sweets, "my body" will slowly return to me. Though when "my body" returns, and it may still, I will miss the "girls" that came with this weight. I actually see cleavage now, where once there was a wide valley. Granted, the "girls" need to be helped into place, but they are still pointing up, and so we'll let them be happy while the rest of me sinks into various lumps of cellulite depression.
My worst “oh my god is that really me?” moment was a few months ago when I had to buy a new bathing suit. I am a born and raised California girl who has always worn very little to the beach. Even after having Last Son, in my mid-forties, I still looked (or at least I think I did) great in a bathing suit. I always felt so bad for the kids at the beach or pool whose moms wouldn’t wear a bathing suit because they were overweight. These moms would still wear shorts or T-shirts, or both, sweating away. Sometimes they would go in the water with these hide-a-fat-body outfits. But not me. I wanted to teach my daughter, by example, to be proud of her body, and all its imperfections.
Yeah, well, I still looked pretty good when those pearls of wisdom came out of my mouth. Back then, I was starting to gain some weight, but had not really hit my stride in volume yet. Teenager, who was barely seven then, said the most profound thing when she caught me staring in disgust at myself in the mirror. “Mom, maybe you’re supposed to look like that.” How kind of her. How elevated in consciousness she is. She is a wise child, and I wanted her to be right.
So what is Teenager saying to me now? “Mom, your face still looks great!”
Last Son doesn’t see what the big deal is about my problem of not fitting into my clothes. This from the child who will wear jeans above his ankles because they still fit around his waist.
And what does Himself say when he is challenged to answer my loaded question, “I’ve really gained a lot of weight, haven’t I?”
“I’ll still do ya!”
No comments:
Post a Comment