The truth. No one really wants to hear it. Those with a faint heart, move on to my next post. It will be lighter, funnier.
They call me the destroyer. Self destroyer.
Whenever I have an 'event' coming up where I have to where real clothes for more than a couple of days in a row (aka-not hangwithkidswear), I know that I won't measure up to how I want to look, so I torture myself. I get mad at myself. Sad. Then, I eat.
Funny. That is what got me into this mess in the first place. So in an effort to not think about how I will be traveling with my girls this weekend (who happen to be 1/2 the size as me) I literally swallow my pride. Let me be clear...they are half the size for a reason. They work hard at it. Don't think I don't know it.
But. It.Is.Ok. I am finally understanding that it took me YEARS to bulk up. It is going to take quite a while to de-bulk (since I don't have a Jillian or Bob to kick my ars on national tv). To measure, I am 3 pant sizes down from last years girls weekend. Not my goal of 5, that was my problem this week.
So...this week, instead of recognizing how far I have come, I ate a few (million)crappy snacks to wallow in my misery. Oh well. Beans spilled. Climb back on the horse. Grab ANOTHER glass of water.
Don't worry girls. I won't bring my misery down South with us (or my snacks). They won't even get through the security check. The good thing is that I have packed lighter this year. Body and Bag.
I am sure whoever my roomie for the weekend will be is going to appreciate the time saving/mess preventing packing job. I vow only to try on two outfits everytime we get ready to go out instead of 10. :o)