Why my skinny pants don't fit ...

* I am addicted to iced chai tea. At home I make it with vanilla soy milk and the powdered mixes. At Starbucks I buy a Venti - Skim, or a Grande - regular. I drink way too much of it, especially in the summer heat.

* I am also addicted to sweet tea. Any time we hit a fast food restaurant for a meal (on the weekends, usually) I am inclined to buy a small and refill it several times. Several.

* I like food. Aside from the two drinks I mention above, I'm all about the food. Yes, I like sweets, but I like regular food, too. From mashed potatoes to macaroni and cheese, I'm all about the sides. I try to do better when ordering out, and try to do my best when cooking at home, but my husband is a meat and potatoes man, and I'm a potatoes kinda' girl.

* I frequently fail at keeping a journal about my food intake. I try, and I use that to feel motivated and to have somewhere to feel accountable. Whether it's a personal journal, one for friends online to see, or just a few scraps here and there. You can't imagine the number of notebooks I have kept over the past years, despite their being an obvious indication of my failure to do this, and do it right. I just can't bring myself to tear out those pages or throw them away. Why? I have no idea. Maybe I'm hopeful that some day I'll look at them and be motivated enough to kick-start a healthy way of life and stick to it. Maybe I just need to remind myself from where I've come? I don't know. I just keep them. Maybe I like clutter (I SO do!)

* I hate to exercise. Seriously, I hate it. I mean, I like to move, I try to want to. I'll walk and dance, and even belly dance (more on that another day,) but stick me on a treadmill and I'm so friggin' bored there are no words. So for me, especially in this Southern Heat, I'm immobile. Top the lack of motion off with the foods I'm eating, and well, you get someone who can't wear their skinny jeans, but still holds onto them anyway.

And please recognize my disclaimer. My skinny pants would likely be your fat pants. Seriously. They would be the pants you wear after Thanksgiving dinner, or the ones you throw on when you're PMSing. I'm not proud of this, but I figured I should at least be honest with you, my loyal readers, so you'd know I wasn't talking about size sixes here, oh no. I'm not quite sure I ever saw that size in my entire life. And while I will admit that it took me many years to reach the point of being okay with being plus-sized (what a term, isn't it? More of you to love and all that cr@p!) I still wish I were thinner. I still wish I were the weight I was embarrassed about a dozen years ago, when I thought I'd die if anyone knew what the scale said. Ah, well. In time I found myself, I found my husband, we had our beautiful daughter and I learned to truly love being me.

Now if I could only convince myself to get rid of those d@mned pants ...

Tweet