When a New Pair of Jeans is Not a Good Thing

Ready for some honesty people? We're talking straight from the heart, raw as raw can be honesty. And I apologize if this seems to be an ongoing theme with me... But if you bear with me maybe it'll be a wee bit different than usual.

Yesterday I had to do the unthinkable: I bought a new pair of jeans. While this is usually cause for happiness (what girl doesn't love new clothes?!) it was a moment of sincere, utter heart-break. Why you ask?

I'll tell you.

I had to buy a pair of bigger jeans. In October I really hit the working out thing hard. I was consistent. I pushed myself, and by the end of November I was looking damn good. I had never been in such good shape. I had to buy new smaller jeans at the time because none of mine fit. I gleefully gave all the too-big jeans away, celebrating the fact that I was going to work my hardest to never need them again.

Then came Christmas. I had two weeks with my husband and then he left, and when he left depression set up camp. My schedule changed and it was harder to work out at night. It was nearly impossible to get up in the morning and work out as well. I did try, but not my hardest. I let excuse after excuse crowd its way into my head, pushing all of my good intentions out the door.

I feebly tried to work out every day, but soon it turned into twice a week, then once a week. Then once every two weeks. And suddenly, March comes and there are days when I can forsake forgiving sweatshirts, sweaters and vests for short sleeve shirts. I had been putting on my jeans more and more reluctantly, in denial that a muffin top was well on its way and then finally here. But when I pulled on my favorite pair of skinny jeans and looked in the mirror, I found myself in tears.

I yelled at my closet, furious that my clothes didn't fit. I tore off the jeans and cursed them for shrinking in the washer. I sobbed in frustration at the unfairness of the world. Just a few months ago I was at the top of my game. And now... Now I was an irrational mess worse off than when I started trying six months ago.

I hope not many people have gotten to this point. It isn't a pretty place. I was supposed to go to a family St Patrick's Day party, but I was almost ready to lock myself in my room and not come out because I didn't look good in  anything!

I can't remember when I have ever been so crushed in all my life.

And so, I took myself to the thrift store to buy some new jeans. I refused to invest any real money in them because they were only temporary. I would not be trapped in them long. I would be back in my adorable clothes in no time.

But if I was going to do that, it was finally time to take a good, hard, long look at myself and see where the issues really lie. What was it that put me into this never ending cycle of trying, giving up, crying, trying, giving up, crying.... I want it to stop. NOW.

Here is what I realized: I don't want to get skinny, fit and toned to fit anyone elses' idea of what is beautiful. I do want to be my best for my husband, but that sweet man has made it perfectly clear he likes me just the way I am. So why am I so desperate to be in shape?

I want to be in shape for these reasons: Because I know I can! I am disappointing myself because I know I can. It is well within my reach, but I seem to fall short every single time I try. It is how I am supposed to be. Not because the media demands it, but because I demand it. I wasn't born to be dissatisfied with how I look. And I know I should accept myself the way I am, and I am trying. But the truth is, I know I can do more. And, frankly, I am not delivering.

Another reason? I just want to wear my clothes!!!! I want to go shopping and not absolutely dread going into the dressing room. I want to be able to pull off just about every style.

And, of course, I just want to be healthy.

So I am not doing this for anyone else but myself.  And dagnabit I am going to do it! I have a plan brewing. A plan that involves one of the wonderful people in my life helping me out. I have come to the point where I am ready to ask for help. And I have been blessed with a wonderful support system. I will probably fall on my face a few more times, but that isn't going to stop me from trying.

I know I can do better, and I will.