It's no big secret that I've gained some weight in the last three or four years; at one point I set out to lose it and then decided I didn't want to deny myself all the food I loved, and I kicked the diet out the door.
I can honestly say I don't even feel too bad about the weight. Not nearly as bad as I would if I couldn't have pizza sometimes. (Don't give me that "moderation" speech; I like LOTS of pizza.)
Meanwhile, I don't buy myself any new jeans, because who wants to buy that size jeans? I bought two pairs, a couple years back. They fit. I wear them when we ride the motorcycle. When cold weather comes, I'll be wearing sweats a lot, because sweats lie to me and tell me I haven't gained an ounce. Then there's the fact that they're warm. But I don't buy more jeans because I keep thinking I'll lose weight and all my old ones will fit.
Can I get an amen? I think that's called "wishful thinking".
We were going to go for a motorcycle ride the other day, so I switched from shorts to jeans. You can imagine my dismay at finding the jeans were uncomfortably tight. But by george, I was going to wear them! I refuse to go up another size.
Sitting on the motorcycle it wasn't too noticeable, except these jeans were slightly low-riding. Not extremely low, mind you, but enough so that my belly fat insisted on squeezing up over the top of the jeans. Because, you know, all that has to go somewhere.
Then when I'd get off the bike, the legs of the jeans were a little tight until I tugged at them and pulled them down. I should have been enjoying the ride, but all the time, at the back of my mind, I was wondering how I gained so much weight so quickly!
We were at home that evening when I starting sorting dirty clothes and found both pairs of jeans that fit properly in the hamper. The jeans I was wearing had not fit me in two years; I'd dug them out of the bottom of my drawer.
Whew. There for awhile I thought I was going to have to lose weight. What a relief!