Weighting around

So, I have been all kinds of crazy busy lately and have abandoned you guys. I wrote the below post a week ago and couldn't bring myself to hit 'publish,' but seeing that I don't have time to write anything new, you get to read this - you know, if you want. Be warned, random insane tangent appears at the end. 

This year, I turn 30. And it seems my birthday present has come early. A solid ten pounds that has settled around my waist, hips and thighs, rendering the bulk of my wardrobe useless.
Rows upon rows of cute pants hang in my closet, torturing me. Mocking me. Morning after morning. I get up and woefully choose between the two pair of slacks and one pair of jeans that don't make my ass look like a sausage stuffing inside a too tight casing. OK, fine, there are technically two other pairs of slacks that fit, but as they are both lined and one pair is tweed, they are not Arkansas summer appropriate, lest I think I can sweat away the weight.
So here I sit, in my brown slacks, hoping nobody notices that these are the pants I wore a mere two days ago.
And I know I'm not 'fat,' by any traditional or non-traditional use of the word, yadda, yadda, yadda. That's not what this is about. It's about all those damn clothes I can't wear anymore! It's about being at this odd crossroad in my life, where I'm still young and learning, but old enough to have my 'professional' career. The place where I want to be for a long time. Where I know it's no longer appropriate to wear tight jeans and babydoll tees, but I also haven't resigned myself to high-waisted, no-shape pants paired with jackets that have shoulder pads.
That middle place where I no longer rely on my cuteness factor to move me along, but I also don't have the experience under my belt to claim that 'what I say goes.' And while I've never been one to put my lady bits on display, I feel the need to make sure that I look professional, but not provocative. Young, but not too young.
Dressing 'age appropriate,' if you will. And yet, doing so is difficult when your body and your wardrobe gang up on you, leaving you feeling helpless and frustrated.
And so, I look around with a shaking finger, eager to point it at anyone, anything to be the blame for what has happened.
Age? Sure. I'm getting older, my body has betrayed me (or maybe it's all those coffees and heavy-cream laden pasta dishes I adore).
My lethargic lifestyle? Well, fine, blame the desk I sit behind and couch I sit upon for all this fluffiness on my backside, what do I care?
Society? YES! Of course, why didn't I think of that first? Society demands that at 30 I be an object of desire (or so I hear) and I'm not living up to it. And really? A size 4? Isn't that plus-size material? Shouldn't I be trying to squeeze back into those two pair of size 0 pants in the back of the closet that I have for some reason refused to get rid of, despite my open and active ebay account?
Ah yes, society. If it weren't for you, teen girls would never know the joy of throwing up their dinner in an attempt to thwart off their ever-expanding hips. They would never have to worry about spending gobs upon gobs of money to glop toxic chemical brews on their faces, covering what semblance of character they already had bestowed upon them in exchange for a face that is more socially acceptable.
Um, yeah. So, what do you blame?


  1. Yeah, I feel you. I've been looking for something to point a finger at too. I've never been "skinny" but worked really hard in my 20's to be "thin(ish)". Then I had a BAD accident that left me unable to walk without crutches for 4 months. Hello pounds, goodbye workout ethic. But, I think I've used the "my knee hurts" excuse for way too long now. So excuse me while I go shop for running shoes.

  2. I hear ya! I blame my job because I sit at a desk all day. I blame age because in high school, I could eat anything and not gain a lb.

  3. For all the times I tell you to shut up or trade sizes with me, I really do understand. Anytime you gain weight, it's hard. I've been every size between a 4 and (too-tight) 16. More than anything, I feel like I've let myself down when I gain weight. It's somewhat about society and the struggle, like you said, to look age-appropriate and professional, but it's more that I know the pounds reflect my sedentary lifestyle. If nothing else, I owe it to myself to be healthy and live with whatever size that equates to. But, it's so much easier said than done. I guess you just have to decide which is the lesser of two evils: new pants or a new workout regiment. Or just wait it out a bit longer... I won't judge... I've got a sausage pants situation going on today! :-)

  4. Gah, it ate my comment. Here's a shortened version since I've been ignoring the dishes for a whole day now.

    If you are comfortable with you, then get rid of the clothes. That's all really.

    My own issues were time and kid, which are highly interrelated. I finally got to the point where I felt weak and I was tired because I didn't get enough physical activity to fall asleep fast but then once I got to sleep, it was time to get up. I asked everyone if I was getting fat and no, no they'd say, you are so thin already (I was thin but not healthy thin). But pants told me everything I needed to know anyway.

    Something had to change so I started making time for something I liked and realized that I couldn't eat a bagel every morning for breakfast anymore. Now 10 months later I need to go buy belts because I don't own any and my pants which were too tight are now falling off. So anyway, eventually you'll decide what it is that you can and can't live with and go from there.

  5. Okay, just the thought of you ever having been able to wear a 0 makes me feel stabby, which is a sure sign that society has f'ed us all well and truly up.

    Gaining weight is always hard, no matter what your size.