All of my life I’ve been on the relatively small side (you know, skinnier than a twig and called Twiggy in school type small) and I’ve been okay with this. Well most of this….I did want curves around age 15. Then as I got older, I got my wish for curves! (Just not all of them if you know what I mean.)
So when I recently gained a rash of weight that was really nothing big but freaked me out, I started to argue with the scale for the very first time in my life. I would try all those tricks women do, but men don’t get, like weighing myself AFTER I went to the bathroom first thing in the morning, without a stitch on because my towel…it weighs 10 lbs I SWEAR! Then I moved on to the walking and the drinking water and the exercising with that horrible trainer on TV who thinks that I’m coordinated enough to Jump, Kick, and Punch in a fluid motion. HA! (this man has obviously not taken into consideration the numerous women in the world who hold on to the stair case and walk in a slow manner as a means to maintain BALANCE not look DECOROUS.) And I admit it…the water and the walking and the exercising is good for me. So I got over the number on the scale for the most part.
What I don’t like and STILL haven’t quite come to grips with is the size of my pants. Almost one year ago my dress was a size six and my pants a size seven. I’ve now moved up to a size eleven in pants and I would assume an equal dress size increase. Then Sunday Alex and I went out to purchase our outfits for a wedding or two. You understand, a guy needs a good suit for several years and a woman….well who needs an excuse for a new dress????So after lamenting my new numbers I went to try on several outfits and lo and behold the one that looks best on me, that is wonderful (AND CHEAP!) was a size eight. Yup just one size up on the scale.
So I just have one thing to say to my bathroom scale….
You lie and so now I’ve fixed you. No more batteries for you!