Weighty matters

Ok. So, I've decided to try to lose a little weight/get a little healthier. I'm letting you all in on this now only because I am on day #9 and have seemed to be able to stick with it thus far. This is a new record for me by 7 days! In high school I counted Weight Watchers points for two whole days, and on a separate occasion I was faithful to the Atkins' Diet for a stellar day and a half. So, needless to say, I'm on a roll here and feel confident enough to admit it. I'm making no promises, however, about how long this will last, or if it will even make a difference, but I had to record that I even made it this far. I've even exercised for 4 days in a row! I know! Crazy!

It's really been coming for quite some time. It all started a couple of months ago when I could no longer deny the fact that I had developed a definite "muffin top." Hiding it under billowy shirts was no longer working for me.

Also, my friend recently decided to enter a pageant (Hi Jaymie!). I considered the possibility of entering one myself, and am rather embarrassed to say that I nixed the idea pretty quickly because I (it's horrible) was unwilling to give up Oreos. I know, shameful. The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Then, a few weeks ago I was purchasing a dress for a wedding coming up in May (I'm a bridesmaid, or matron) and the lady said that even though I said I was a size 12 over the phone(I'm not ashamed to say it), she said the dresses run small and I may actually be a 16, and would I please come in to be measured? I was really hormonal and started bawling like a baby over the phone. Like heaving boogery sobs. I went in to be measured and I really am a size 12, but I was shaken, I'm not gonna lie. Not that 16 is all that awful, but when you think you're a 12, it's not a number you want to hear.

The same day that I went in to be measured, I picked up my ring from the jeweler's and it was too small to fit my finger. I had a red, sore knuckle for hours. I later found out that they had sized it incorrectly and were off by a whole size. Still, not a great thing to happen that day to my already sensitive emotions.

I'm not even joking, but the final straw was also that very same day, when I came home and Aria pushed on my "muffin top" and asked excitedly if I was expecting a new baby girl. Yeah. When I finally, against her persistent insistance that I was, convinced her that Mommy was just a little chubby, she informed me that only daddies could be a little chubby, not mommies. While I did correct her assumption, I had really had enough.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, I run. I run away from my "muffin top," away from the Oreos which do so easily beset me. I say to my daughter, "No! Mommy is not pregnant and you can see it!" And to dress-makers and ring-sizers everywhere, "I am a 12 or smaller, dang it! And don't give me a ring bigger than a size 6!! This is my creed.