I went to Kohls yesterday. I had some Kohls Crack, I mean Kohls Cash, that expires in two days. I had a hard time finding anything I liked, so I thought, “Eh, just get a pair of shorts.”
At the end of last summer, I got quite a few pair in sizes 2, 4, and 6, and one pair in size 8 that were way smaller than the 8s I was already wearing. I’m wore that pair of size 8 yesterday, and they were comfortably loose. And I know I’ve gotten a little smaller since last summer. I’d just taken progress pics the day before.
I picked up more of the same brand and style (Sonoma Boyfriend Shorts) in
size 6 and size 8 to try on, even though I thought I should be able to wear the 4. It’s a little mind trick… I start with the bigger size I think I might be, and if they were too big and had to go for a smaller size, well.. woohoo! I couldn’t get them over my hips. WTF?! I held them up to the shorts I wore and they were a good two inches smaller.
“Eh, so they’re sized weird,” I told myself. “No big deal. You know better than to get upset over sizes. Go grab some 10s.”
The top photo is the 8s I was wearing, and the bottom are the new 10s. They barely zipped, and gave me major muffintop, flattened my ass, and practically cut off circulation everywhere, except for a huge gap in the back of the waist above my butt. I realize I have a more junk in the trunk than some women, but I have to wonder, just what shape are these made for?! I know they call them “boyfriend jeans,” but shouldn’t they be at least somewhat catered to a woman’s shape? I’m pretty sure I’d get a more flattering fit in real menswear.
I ended up getting a pair of sunglasses with my Kohls Cash. It was the only thing that fit.
Last summer, after faithfully logging my calories (most of the time) and exercising regularly (most of the time) for about six months, I was pretty damn happy with my results. I looked pretty good, I felt pretty good, and while I wasn’t as lean as I’d been a few years back, I knew that being that lean took a lot of work and dedication, and that the benefits of being leaner weren’t really all that great. Wearing a size smaller didn’t make me feel any better, physically or emotionally. I still saw just as many flaws and problem areas when I looked in the mirror. I still had to scoop cat shit out of the cat box. I still had to pay my bills every month. The sky wasn’t any bluer and the clouds were no fluffier. The only difference was that the tag inside my jeans – that no one saw but me – was a smaller number.
So, rather than continue to push towards a goal that really didn’t matter, I gave up. I don’t mean that I got so burnt out by logging and exercising that I said, “Fuck it,” became a couch potato, and ate a bag of Butterfingers a day. I just eased back a bit. I stopped logging my food. After doing it off and on for five years, I should have a pretty decent idea of what to eat. I stopped weighing and measuring myself. I ran a little less, especially after I bunged up my Achilles and had to rest for a few weeks. But the biggest thing I gave up was pressure on myself.
So, about 8-9 months later, what’s the result of giving up? This.
I’m closer to my “goal body” now than I was when I was trying so hard to get there.
I’m still not even sure I want to be as lean as the 2012 pic again. But I’m taking an attitude of “if it happens, it happens.” I’m not going to push myself too hard, I’m not going to weigh and log every bite of food that goes in my mouth, I’m not going to weigh and measure myself. I’m not going to give up chocolate and cookies and other goodies. I’m just going to continue to eat mostly whole foods and move my body in ways that feel good.
And I really hope to stick with blogging this time.
Let’s see… since I last posted, I kept running, won a couple more medals (second in age group), trained for a half marathon, got up to 12 miles, had some problems with my Achilles and aheel spur and had to stop running for a while. *wah*
Well, that set me back quite a bit, and I’ve been running sporadically since October. Then my poor little dog, my one eyed Pekingese Beavis, went blind in his remaining eye. He’s adjusting to it well. Much better than I am. But for him, it’s, well… still fun and games. He gets more treats, more walks, more fun training like learning to jump through a hoop. The biggest change for him is that he gets carried up and down steps, and goes for walks instead of being let out in the yard to do is business. Pretty sweet deal for him!
For me, it’s been a lot of expenses and vet visits, a lot of eye drops, a lot of worry, and a lot of time on walks thinking, “JUST POOP ALREADY!” as he sniffs and snurfles looking for the exact right spot to drop a bomb. But seeing how happy he looks when he runs in the park? Worth it.