Monday, August 8, 2011

It's time.

I've been dreading this day ever since I found out I was pregnant this last time.  I knew this day would come and I knew it was going to be painful and shitty and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I knew that one day it would be time to lose weight.

In high school and for most of my young adult life, I was pretty tiny.  I'm also short - 5ft even - and have a pretty small bone structure.  I also have four kids and a full-time job.  You'd think I'd be one of those women other women hate - who are wearing their old clothes a month after having a baby and say things like, "I'm just so busy; I forget to eat."  I hate women like that.  For some reason - no matter how busy I am - I can always find time to eat.  And I can also eat when I'm depressed or stressed.  Those are other times that skinny women seem to lose their appetite.  Lately though, it's been over 100 degrees here for like thirty-something days straight and I've heard stickly women say that the heat also affects their ability to eat.  Not me.  I might just be eating ice cream, but I will still be eating.

I tend to gain a lot of weight when I'm pregnant.  I mean a lot.  I gained 80lbs with my daughter and 50lbs each with my two sons.  Did I also mention I gained 20lbs with each husband?  I always manage to lose the weight, but unfortunately not because I work out and eat right.  I was a single mom when I had my daughter and I was going to work full-time and college full time and every other weekend that she went to her dad's, I also went out.  I was also a lot younger, so it was pretty easy to get back down to my pre-pregnancy weight.  I lost the weight I gained from my first husband and the weight I gained with my first son with my first divorce.  It's funny how good the 'divorce diet' works.

But, here I am again - with the 20 lbs I gained after getting married this time and the 30lbs I have left after having my second son and I'm not sure my husband would be cool with me leaving him temporarily so I can lose this weight.

So - it's time to lose the weight.  I always know when it's time to lose weight because I will have a moment where something will happen and I will realize I'm part of the 'fat girls club'.  You know, all women think they look fatter than they are and usually people will tell you that you're crazy and you look great - but inevitabley, there will come a moment when there's no one disagreeing with your self-assessment and you just know.  It's time.

Which brings me to the last time I can remember having that 'moment'.

I was married to my first husband and had gained 20 lbs since we got married.  I was in denial about it.  My wretched sister-in-law - at the time - was getting married.  I was not in the greatest moods about the whole thing.  For starters, I had had a miscarriage recently.  I was 8 weeks pregnant when it happened.  My in-laws had me and my husband over for dinner and I thought it was a gesture on their part as a way of trying to cheer me up.  Wrong.  Right when I get there, my MIL says to me, "Well, I guess we are going to have a baby after-all."   Huh?  "Yeah, Trish (my wretched sister-in-law) is pregnant."  (Well, that's good!  I mean, I'm so glad we are going to have a baby after-all.  I realize I almost messed that up by having my miscarriage, but thank goodness Trish saved the day by getting knocked up by her boyfriend of all of two months!)  In the next breath - Trish goes on to tell me that she wants me to be her Matron of Honor.  Oh yipee.  Not only is she pregnant, but now I can't even avoid her - seeing as how I'm going to be helping her plan her wedding.  But, of course it gets better.  You can't have a Matron of Honor without also having a Maid of Honor and who else would be the best choice for that - but my husband's ex-fiance, Becca.  I have to stress that she told me all of this (the baby, the wedding, and the ex-fiance), before I even took my jacket off.

Before we went home that night, my SIL told me that she wanted all her bridesmaids to meet in the next month or so and go shopping for their dresses.  I mean, we had to chop-chop; after all, having a wedding dress altered for every trimester can be a bit challenging.  At that time, I had never met the ex-fiance.  So, one Saturday I meet my SIL, MIL, and the rest of the wedding party at a bridal store.  At this point, my SIL was almost five months pregnant - and still skinnier than me I might add.  I was introduced to Becca - who (and I'm not joking) was probably 100 lbs.  I can't be 100 percent sure on that - but I do know that when the sales lady brought her out a dress to try on, she said, "Well, the smallest size we have is a 2, but we can at least get an idea of what the dress will look like on you; we can always order a smaller size."  Oh goody; I mean, I was just going to sit at home and be sad about not being pregnant and growing an extra chin, but this is so much better.   This is what was missing in my life; a Saturday of bridesmaid dress shopping with pregnant wretched SIL and Miss Ex-size 0.

When the sales lady came to me and asked me for my size, I just couldn't bring myself to tell her what size I I lied and gave her a size about 2 sizes smaller.  Now, don't ask me why I did that.  I think I was distracted by the ribs sticking out on Miss Ex-size 0.......on her back.  And did I also mention that I was the last girl to try on her dress?  So, there I am - hiding out in the fitting room - with a dress I know is not going to fit and a room-ful of people waiting on me to see how it looks.

So......I decided I would just try and see if I could get it on.  I mean, it's a dress and it wasn't form-fitting, so really I just have to get it over my upper body, right?  After much sucking in and heaving and ho-ing, I managed to get it on and it looked ok.  I came out of the dressing room and the sales lady says - while everyone is standing there - "Yeah, maybe a couple of sizes bigger."  So, I turn right around and have a fight with the curtain on the fitting room trying to get back inside as quickly as possible.  I swear it's jumping from right to left - blocking my way and laughing at me.  I get back inside and am trying to get this stupid dress off......and it gets stuck.

I don't mean a little stuck - like I have to manuever around for a few minutes and make some wierd noises to get it off - I mean, it's stuck like there is no way in hell I'm going to get this off without help.  And of course it's stuck on me in such a way that my arms are raised up in the air - half bent - and the neck is over my head and I can't move to even pull it back down to where it was.  I have no choice but to step out and ask for help.  So, after I wrestle with the curtain again - which is even harder to do when you can't see - I humbly and pitifully ask my MIL to help me.  She tries, but no luck.  So, we have to call the sales lady to come help too.  She was kind enough to leave the curtain open so that everyone could witness what is probably the greatest moment in my whole life.  I mean, it's right up there with accidentally farting in class in the 8th grade.

In the end, they had to rip the dress off of me.

So, this last weekend, we had a 'Sales-tax free' weekend in my state.  The hubby and I spent all day shopping for the kids and ourselves.  We're at the store and my husband asks me if I'm going to buy anything.  I tell him, "I don't know; I'm not sure what size to get right now."  He says, "Why don't you try some stuff on?"............................Um, yeah - that's ok.

I may not be anymore fatter than I was the last time I had a baby, but I am definitley a lot smarter.

Yep - it's time.


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