A few months back, I made a decision not to fad diet again and wrote about it here in a post titled No-No Dieting.
For the most part, I have stuck to this. I try to be healthy and watch what I put into my mouth, but I do not beat myself up over a
bottle glass of wine, a slice of pizza or YiaYia’s delicious lemon potatoes. Or even all of the above in one sitting.
I am also probably even healthier now that I no longer eat wheat and have cut back (not cut out) dairy. When it suits me though, obvs.
So, while I certainly do think I have a healthier attitude to food now, it means I still have not lost that last stone of baby weight (and some times of the month a mere 10lbs!).
Recently, I described how I live in leggings as few of my old jeans fit and I cannot bear to upsize (Fashion Daaaarhling). This has led to a fair proportion of my wardrobe not being fully utilised – for example all of the gorgeous tops and jackets that I purchased to wear with jeans… when I had slimmed back into them.
I also have a pair of 29″ waist Levis, circa 2001, that I have kept in my bottom drawer for ten years even though I haven’t been able to pull them up past my knees for nine of those.
This week, I finally admitted defeat in the battle of the baby bulge (previously known simply as ‘battle of the bulge’) and I sized up.
I wish I felt as nonchalant about this as Julia Roberts did in Eat Pray Love. In the scene where her character is discussing muffin tops with her friend (purlease, as if!) while stuffing her face with a pizza that is dripping in melted cheese, she shrugs and says “so we’ll just buy bigger jeans”.
There was no shrugging involved in my decision. At all. I found it to be both liberating and depressing at the same time.
“It happens to the best of us” sighed the Greek God(zilla) as I slipped miserably into the jeans. Note slipped, not wrangled.
My bigger jeans do fit much better and I even have a bit of room to grow. If I wanted to, I could even wear a snug fitting top with the jeans and there would be no evidence of a muffin top. Not that I ever would. Like EVER. Let’s not even go there.
So now my old fat jeans have been relegated to the bottom drawer to become my new skinny jeans and the dream of one day squeezing back into 29″ Levi’s belongs to another lifetime.
Pass the Dairy Milk someone?
Have you ever had to size up or has your weight stayed the same since you were a teenager? Does it bother you what clothes size you are? Please tell me I’m not alone in my despair/delight at having comfy jeans again?