fudge

This is going to be a self-indulgent entry about my weight and current body issues. Feel free to bypass...

My clothes don't fit anymore.

Obviously, this didn't happen overnight. There were days when I tugged on my jeans and had that oh-these-must-be-just-out-of-the-dryer justification before I covered the waist with a long sweater before hustling out the door. Growing out of old clothes is something that I've done my whole life (although when my feet finally stopped growing at size 8 1/2 in middle school, I was incredibly grateful). Growing out of my college clothes into my grad school malaise of jeans, rain jackets, and sensible shoes for my trek to campus was only natural, too. But now that I'm practically required to wear cute clothes to work every day, I have no choice but to realize that my non-slubby clothes are all much too small (except for the same 6 pieces I've managed to rotate ad nauseum for 6 months now). And when I went shopping this weekend (at the largest outlet mall I've ever seen), I quickly realized that my old sizes were no longer my friends.

Now, as any good feminist will remind you, size does not matter (on tags, anyway). Girls who wear a size 14 or 16can rock it as well as girls in a 4 or 6. This isn't about "hitting my number" like those eating disorder fiends talk about. I'm talking about the fact that ~I~ can not longer wear pants correctly because of the large band of fat bulging across my midsection. It doesn't matter if that fat makes me a 12 or a 2: it needs to go.

That said, my attempts at weight loss have always been thwarted by two things: One, I'm pretty lazy, and really don't like working out. I like working out well enough, I guess, and I've learned over the years how to mix it up enough to keep from getting bored. What I hate hate hate, however, is HAVING to work out. The knowing that if I don't go, I'm a loser, and doing it on the days that I hate it. Dread. Even if I loved working out, I probably wouldn't do it everyday, because I also love sitting on the couch. But now that the fat is in taking over my closet, I might have to wage war on the tedium, and just get it done.
Secondly, I love food. I loooooooooooove food. I love to eat good food, and I love to eat enough to feel full (no sampling). I don't stuff myself at every meal, but when I eat unsatisfying food, I always need more of something else to fill me. And when something is really good, I will eat all. of. it.
I know how to eat well, but it's hard to do, usually because we're on a tight budget so we just have hamburger helper (again), or I have to finish all the food we have already before I can justify a trip to the store. Or, I can't afford to go to the store, so I eat bananas and toast and popcorn for dinner. I know taking care of your body is supposed to be number one, but, shit. Sometimes you're broke.
But I'm trying to be better. Like, at the store, I don't buy hamburger helper anymore, so it's not there as a last resort at all. (And good riddance :P) And when I need a snack at work, instead of raiding the candy bowl, I pilfer from someone's stash of raw almonds in the kitchen (sorry!). I started a food diary, too, which is pretty easy since I'm at a computer all day. It helps with my snacking, since I know I have to report everything (even to myself). I've always eaten well enough to get by without it hurting my weight too much, but now, it's time to get serious.

So, anyway, I guess I want to say that I am half depressed and half hopeful about the state of things. My metabolism is definitely changing (as in, slowing waaaay down), and I have to start being better about taking care of myself. I've started going back to the gym, with support from my co-workers (we keep each other honest), stopped putting sugar in my coffee (something I never thought I would resort to), and pulling out all the stops for getting myself put back together. Whenever people tell these stories about struggling with different diets and plans, and they talk about how they *finally* get the weight off, they always say how they just DID IT. No more dicking around and half-assing it. Surprise. I guess it really can be that simple.

And don't worry, because I still got really cute clothes this weekend.