ill-fitting

It might have been a little overly-ambitious of me to go clothes shopping six weeks after giving birth. Maternity pants are too loose and regular pants are too tight, so I figured I’d pick up a few items for myself. I didn’t anticipate the dressing rooms. I hate trying clothes on. I abhor it. But I have one of those bodies where you can’t just grab your size off the rack and know it will fit. I’m too curvy for that. I wish it worked that way. And now that my body has changed yet again from a baby, I had to see what size pants to get anyway.

The answer wasn’t pleasant. Let’s just say for the first time in my life if I were to buy pants that I could actually snap closed, they would be a double digit size. Yikes. The news depressed me so I stopped shopping for myself and started shopping for baby clothes. Clothes I didn’t have to try on and would certainly look good on Brandon. I texted my friend that shopping had depressed me so I had turned to baby clothes and she told me she does the same thing. Her exact text was, “I may have ratty crappy ill-fitting sloppy clothes, but my baby looks damn good.” It made me feel a little better.

A cake n’ shake from the Coldstone right next to me would have made me feel a lot better, but I realized that wasn’t going to help anything. I’m emotionally eating now. If I don’t change that I’ll be in the double digits forever. For now, I’m still in the postpartum grace period for looking this way. But how long can I get away with that? I need to have some clothes to wear to work in six weeks, because I don’t think my ratty green sweat pants are in our dress code.