"I want popcorn, I want candy, I want chips." I told my husband, of ten years, when he asked me "what I wanted. I wanted the damn dress to fit me, is what I wanted. I had just worn it, to my daughters graduation ceremony, in June. It was November now. I couldnt zip the dress up. I couldnt believe, I had gained at least ten pounds, since the summer.
I had a problem with my weight at fourty five. I could always eat whatever I wanted and at this age, all of a sudden I couldn't have anything that wasn't green. I loved fries, couldn't eat them anymore. I loved bread I couldn't eat it anymore. I loved all foods that weren't considered low calorie. Now I was fifty two and even though I wasn't, what you would call obese, I was overweight. I couldnt believe, that my clothes didn't fit anymore. I hadn't even made it, through the Christmas season, yet.
So, I decided, I would try the weightwatchers program. The food tasted great, but I always cheated, because the portions were small. Then, I tried the cabbage soup diet. You could eat as much soup, as you could possibly eat. Then, I read an article that told a tale, of a young woman, who was brainwashed for seven years. The only thing she ate, while being programed, by a cult, was cabbage soup. So, I thought to myself, that if that "darn soup, had no protien, then I was probably brainwashing myself". Thinking, that it was a healthy way to lose pounds. No, cabbage soup, was not the answer. I also had a friend, who got into the cocaine scene, in the eighties. She had lost, a hundred pounds, but this wasn't, a healthy weight loss program either. I couldnt of afforded, that diet anyways. No, the cocaine diet was out of the question, totally out of the question.
My husband, told me I looked great, for the fifth time this month, when I complained about my weight. He was overweight too, and I thought, he could lose a few pounds, with me, together. He never wanted to eat my diet food, with me So diet, after diet, were sabotaged, as I still cooked for him. Things like beef stroganoff, chicken and dumplings, were his meals. Week after week, I tried to lose the fat, but today, today I would get my self booked in at the gym.
I looked around, at the people on the treadmill, and the body builders pumping iron. "This is a fascinating place," I thought to myself, alot of eyecandy here. It just wasn't my thing, to lift and count. So, I tried some step aerobics, at the same gym the next week. The first workout was interesting. I sprained my ankle, and never went back. The girl leading us, had to stop the music, stop everyone from stepping all about, and wrap my poor ankle, in a tensor bandage. The next exercise, I would try? Aqua aerobics, now that was my kinda workout, I looked pretty good, beside the seventy and eighty year old exercisers. No self consciousness, like at the first, and second workout routine. I couldnt fool myself, any more, when I wasn't lifting my legs up, in the water. Not getting the full workout, and doing it half luster, I told myself that, the only one I was fooling, was myself. I stopped all exercise plans. I still gardened, and cleaned house, giving myself a little bit of exercise, doing these chores.
I threw the dress down on the floor, sweating. I had, had it, caught on my head. Squeezing out of it, was almost harder, than squeezing into it. My husband looked at me bailfully, and painfully, then asked me, if I wanted to go shopping. This was hard for him to ask, I knew, as clothes shopping, was not a sport he ever enjoyed. He said it to me, so that I could feel better about myself, in some new clothing, that fit.
The style was jumpsuits, skinny jeans, and lots of cute short shirts. All of these things were atrocious looking on me, when I tried them on. Vying for the stretchy tights, and sweatshirts. He reminded me, that this shopping trip was for the party, we had to go to, next week. I ended up with two dresses, the same dress, in two different colors. 'They actually looked quite nice on me', my husband said. They were the only ones, that were comfortable. My husband was pleased as punch, when I said" give me the red one and the black one in the same size". It fit nicely, and was made out of, a stretchy velveteen. No one would notice, at our functions that they were the exact same dress, in different colors. Pantyhose. I needed a pair of panty hose. All the models, on the front of the package, looked great. I had pantyhose, that were too small before, and it wasn't fun. Not only did your hand rip through them, in the first two minutes, but the crotch was three inches below mine. Not even a fifteen minute drama episode, of carefully coaxing them up, could stop the unforgettable uncomfortable news, of a pair, that were too small. I considered crotchless for a second, and changed mind when my husband raised his eyebrows. I was joking around but finally found a size for me. Queen size.
I wrote a song all the way home about how "I GOT THE QUEENSIZE, OH YEAH, HE SIT BESIDE ME I SQUEEZE HIM IN, I SHAKE MY BOOTY, THEY STEP ASIDE, I GOT THE QUEEN SIZE, OH YEAH, HE WINES AND DINES ME, I DIG IN, I GOT THE QUEEN SIZE, OH YEAH". We laughed at my song, all the way home. Guess what? The under garment fit perfect, cause it was the queen-sized. I guess, I'm just going to have to admit that I'm a queesized lady. This doesn't sound too bad, to me. My husband loves me, we enjoy our dinners. My daughter will go out in public with me, she's sixteen, so I can't be that bad. I have decided to give up all together, on dieting, and just accept my new size. Enjoy my life, as a chubby person. Also, I will stop thinking, that size eight is a perfect size. Maybe in my next life, I will be an eight, but for now, I will love my size twelve body. My husband told me to do this. "Love me" and him. He's a great chubby guy. I wouldn't trade my life, for anything.
I'm eating, my homemade toffee right now, and wearing my new track pants. The toffee is excellent, and the pants look allright. I will survive, without a diet.