Weight, I’m Coming!

As skinny little girls, my sister and I marveled at the shape of the Antiguan woman.  From a particular angle, she looked like the letter S.  With her blouse or T-shirt tucked into her jeans, she proudly strutted her ample behind and equally ample belly.  We thought that was the funniest thing.  Well, back then we thought everything was funny.  Okay, fine, we still do.

But it wasn’t funny when several months ago I saw that same woman looking at me when I passed my mirror.  Who invited her into my house, much less my bathroom?  Why is she here and how long is she staying?  Who forgot to tell me that I too would someday transform from an I to an S?  

I’m blaming something or someone for this. 

I cannot blame the kids because I was back to my normal size after I had them.  So no, I’m not using the baby fat excuse 12 years later.

I can blame moving to the country seven years ago.  Yeah after the move, I had to drive everywhere, so that caused me to put on some weight.

I can blame losing my job six years ago.  Okay I was downsized/job eliminated, but I still wasn’t working, so whatever.  Yeah because of that I no longer had a set schedule and had plenty of time to watch TV.  I no longer hustled from one floor to the next.  I no longer walked off my lunch by strolling around Manhattan.

I can blame so many things, but the truth is, only one thing caused the weight gain --- IMMOBILITY.

How do I know this?  I worked in 2008 as a Financial Advisor……okay I was a door to door salesperson, but I only found that out later and the hard way.  So in March I had to get new suits to go to Head Office for training because my old suits didn’t fit.  We went to the store, and I had to buy…gulp…gulp…gulp….one size up.  Somebody who shall remain nameless -------------my husband----------- suggested that I buy TWO sizes up, but I was like OHN (oh hell no).  Plus, men don’t understand these things.  The suits were a bit snug, but I was determined to bear the discomfort because I was still in denial.

However by July, after visiting hundreds of homes and businesses, those pants were swinging on me.  Thank God I didn’t listen to him!  But fast-forward a couple of years after I lost that job too.  Okay I was fired.  Hey I got tired of begging strangers for money.  My mother didn’t raise me like that!  But that’s neither here nor there.  The point is: those pants were now busting out.  I probably should have gotten THREE sizes up!

But I refuse to give in, mainly for two reasons: A) I’m too cheap to buy new clothes.  Because they are still in good condition, in my eyes that’s like brand new.  And 2) I just cannot get used to this new body.  I had my old body for about 20 years straight, give or take a couple pregnancies.  It’s like family.  I’m not ready to say goodbye.

And I know you are probably thinking, why is she complaining?  She is still small.  What does she have to worry about?  You are right, but remember, you are seeing me in clothes. 

I’m seeing myself when I step out of the shower.  And let me tell you, it’s like night and day.

My kneecaps used to greet me from any angle.  Now I have to pull my belly in AND lean over just to see them.  (Yeah, I know I’m still lucky that I can see my toes.)

I have muffin tops, yet I don’t bake.

I have bubbles on my sides.  You call them tires?  Yeah they do look like the Michelin man, now that you mention it.

And I have paddings on my shoulders…..yes still just fresh out of the shower.

And am I the only one who has brushed something off my blouse only to find out that it was my belly and it wasn’t going anywhere?

I hope I don’t sound vain or shallow.  Because it’s not really about the weight gain.  Well it is a little.  But I’m also realistic enough to know that I’m going to gain weight as I get older, and as I become less active.  But why can’t I channel where it goes?  Why does it have to go to the butt and the gut?  Why can’t it come in the form of muscles?  Why doesn’t it go to the calves?  After all I would need them to be strong to carry the rest of me around.

The other day I’m scolding my boys and when I stuck my arm out, I caught the younger one’s eyes deflecting from my eyes to my arm flap.  Yes I have those too, so clearly I’m not being petty. 

But, back to reality.  I know I will never have the body of a 22 year old again.  Heck, I’ll never have the body of a 32 year old either.  And I probably could if I worked really hard, but let’s face it.  I have neither the time, energy nor inclination to fight that fight.  

But since I’m perspectively speaking, I will say this.  I am going to embrace all of it and get used to be because in 20 years, I’m going to be begging to look like this.