Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Eat with abandon and train for first place in the couch potato contest, and the extra pounds you're gaining will announce their presence in a loud - and very unexpected - trumpet call.
"Dum, duh, duh, dummmmmm!"
They creep up quietly, though, hardly noticeable, leading you in to a false sense of security that you can eat anything you want and still look like you're 25-years-old with your 16-year-old self's metabolism still along for the ride.
The pants I snagged from White House Black Market for twenty bucks; on sale from their regular price of $98. Their length was unacceptably long. I would have to spend eight more dollars to get them hemmed, but I was still getting a bargain.
That was October. It wasn't until this past February that I got around to taking them to the seamstress. They were a little snug then, but still felt comfortable.
I plucked them out of my closet last week to wear them and was stunned when I tried putting them on.
"I can't even get these bleepin' pants to button!" I grrrred, standing by my closet, my husband sitting in a nearby room, undoubtedly questioning the veracity of my statement to himself. How many times had he heard that line?
So perhaps I'm the girl who cried fat one too many times, but the evidence was unassailable: The pants I bought five months ago fit then. Now they didn't.
This was the moment, however, for which I'd secretly been waiting. The moment I knew I had to stop imagining that the calories from multiple Frisch's Big Boy platters would not have an effect on my bottom.
This was the moment I knew that I had to get serious about not necessarily eating right, but about quitting eating so doggone wrong.
I'd spent the cold, winter months giving in to the French fries and giving up hope that warm, 30-degree temperatures would soon be headed my way. I'd spent too many extravagant meals believing that past training would still pay off for me today in the same waistline.
So far, so good. I've manged to consume much more water and make healthier choices this past week with surprising ease.
Instead of several "oops" per day, I've manged to cut it down to one or two, hoping they'll all add up soon to one less pant size.