New Jeans

The jeans I own no longer fit.  Yup.  You heard me.  Not the I-ate-a-little-too-much-this-weekend kind of snug.  They simply don't fit.  What the f**k?  As my friend, Brooke, jokingly reminded me, I don't leave a great margin for error in how I wear them, and I won't deny that.  But nevertheless, without workouts, I cannot get into any of the pairs in my closet.  So I had a choice.  I could will them to fit.  Ha!  I could keep trying them on and feeling badly about myself.  I could buy baggy tops to disguise the reality of the moment.  Or I could take a deep breath, acknowledge that it feels bad right now that I cannot maintain my figure as I would like until my health allows it, and buy something that fits and so I can feel good getting dressed to walk out into the world.  So I had a bit of a whine and pulled the trigger.  

Is there a bright side?  Well, I didn't die.  There is no scarlet A on my chest.  I am no longer uncomfortable when I get dressed to go out.  Nobody else in the world has any idea which jeans I am wearing anyway.  And guess what?  They don't care.  I still get the same reception from my friends when I arrive at the restaurant.  I am learning...slowly.