Over the last eight months, I have gained 20 pounds. I have a laundry list of excuses why: I quit smoking, my dad died, my husband started smoking again, I had a nervous breakdown, I started taking medication with a happy side effect of weight gain.
Try as I might, I can’t blame any of those things completely. I have a really messed up relationship with food. It fulfills all sorts of things for me besides hunger. Really, if I think about it, I haven’t felt hungry in years. There’s never an opportunity because I’m usually eating out of boredom, sadness, happiness, depression, or socializing over a bowl of chips.
So, here I am, looking at a number that I haven’t seen since I was pregnant. Fuck. The worst part is that other than that, I feel really great. I go to the gym, but my clothes don’t fit. I don’t eat bad food, but I eat LOTS of good food. I don’t feel bad about myself, but any woman can tell you, squeezing into a pair of too tight jeans is damaging to your self-esteem. I am wiggling myself in as the jeans are screaming, “Good grief, fat ass!! Give my seams a break!”
So this morning, as I was looking in the mirror and thinking that naked, I really look okay and maybe I just needed to get rid of those size zero jeans that mock me constantly, I decided that I am going to embrace my curves. I am going to make a list of all the positive things about my weight gain, talk nicely to myself, burn those jeans, and then try to stop eating my feelings while coming from a positive rather than negative place.
Here we go:
1. Boobs. My boobs haven’t been this big since I was nursing Lily. I actually bought a new bra because I was overflowing my A cups. Hot damn, it’s like free cosmetic surgery! Well, for those people who would spend thousands of dollars to almost fill a B cup. But I am happy about it!
2. Wrinkles. Like a miracle, my wrinkles are less visible. Who needs a facelift and collagen injections when you can just eat a couple extra avocados? This shit rocks!
3. My ass. The one part of my anatomy that has long drawn the most attention from my husband has now doubled in size. Brad is happier than he was when I agreed to try out Men’s Health’s assertion that couples who have sex 4 times a week or more look 10 years younger. Maybe that’s what happened to the wrinkles…
Okay, so I’m new at this and my list is very superficial. But seriously, I spent my whole life getting this message from my mother: FAT IS BAD, so it takes some adjusting. Today, I’m going to try talk nicely to myself and feel my feelings instead of eating them. It’s about to get crazy.
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