It's late in the evening, I'm attempting to get clothes ready for the next morning when my family has to get up extra early and I have IT. The night that (I hope..or maybe it's just me...) every woman has at least once a year. The night that I throw a toddler-like tantrum that none of the clothes in my closet fit me.
My husband attempts to console. He tries to persuade me to go RIGHT then and buy something that fits. Surely that will make me feel better? Oh, men. Men. They just don't get it. Not only would going shopping in that state be a good reason for some nice store clerk to call the cops and have me committed, but he also doesn't understand that I DO NOT want to buy clothes in, gulp, the next size UP.
I cry. Yes, I sit there and cry because I'm hormonal and tired and feeling.....fat.
Funny how when daylight comes everything seems a little better. So, today I realize he is right. I need some pants that I can wear NOW that fit me. Whether they fit for two months or two years, he is right.
But, when I get to the store I have this tiny voice in the back of my mind saying "You haven't shopped in a while, maybe you're wrong about your size...." A faint flicker of hope builds inside me.
I hate that I am reduced to this.
But, *sigh* no. The size that fit me was the one I feared. I tried hard to act nonchalant with the tiny teenaged cashier who tried to chit chat when all I wanted to do was cry and take those dang pants home.
Have I mentioned that I hate that I am reduced to this?
But I didn't cry. Nope. I went home and got on my machine. And when my husband peeked in the room and said "You're STILL on the machine?" I answered with what will now be my new LIFE STATEMENT. Are you ready for it?
"You know what works better than crying? Sweating."
Please, someone, tell me I'm not alone in this. Am I crazy? Has this happened to you?
Linked up with: Working Kansas Homemaker
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