Fat pants

Today is a monumental day...I'm back in my skinny jeans!  I'm sharing this news because I was able to pack away my 'bigger' gal pants and dust off the jeans I NEVER thought I'd get back into.

Truth be told, I can zip the damn things (WHOO-RAY) but at this point in time, sitting still presents as a challenge.  So they're my standing only, skinny jeans.  At least I'm going in the right direction, finally!  I'm happy with small accomplishments!

I had a come to Jesus moment when, this time last year, I was in one of my favorite retail stores.  I was asking the, extremely polite, sales girl for a larger pant size.  I was pushing a 12.  For me, this is not a healthy sign.  I'm usually a 6.  But there I was, crying in size 10 pantaloons realizing their sizing stopped at 14.  What was I going to do if I sized out of the store?!?!?!?  Qu'elle horror!  The sales gal just stood there trying to offer me the next size and a box of tissues.  I bet she was thinking, "Quit your cyrin' and get to moving."  Maybe I'm projecting, but it was a sad moment for us both.

I could always rely on Spanx to (temporarily) size me down (for an event or two).  But Spanx are not meant to wear all the time.  Maybe some gals sport them regularly and I certainly do not judge.  Those knickers are simply awful, despite helping shape our behinds/muffin tops/back fat/thighs, etc.  I would not be a happy Sally if I had those suckers on all the time.  Girdles are extinct...and for good reason!

So with the realization that I was only two sizes away from being extremely limited with my shopping choices and ruling out Spanx and as an appropriate solution, I had to walk the plank with my eyes wide open.  It was time for me to pull my head out of the sand and get my pants to a single digit number once again.

You'd think that humbling shopping experience would be motivation enough, but the straw that broke this former pudgy girl's spirit has to do with a certain British wedding.

April 29th, 2011 might be a sensational memory for the Duchess and Duke (and the rest of England), but for me it was the day I quit.

I watched as this stunning creature emerged from her carriage and I was BLOWN away.  Her body was rockin' and she looked radiant in her McQueen gown.  Just like every other women watching the circus...er, wedding, I naturally compared myself to her.  I busted out my wedding dress and nearly became suicidal when I realized I could not zip it.

So to re-cap I was (rapidly) sizing out of my favorite shop and I couldn't fit in my wedding dress.  You may be saying, what's the big deal about the wedding gown...it's not like I would ever wear it again.  Right you are, but that's not the point.  The writing was so clearly on the wall!!!! I looked pretty darn good on my wedding day (see below) and since having married the man of my dreams, I was letting myself slip into marital bliss.  Trouble was, my bliss was otherwise known as FAT!  I had become comfortable and threw caution to the wind.

That was last year. This year on Kate and Wills first year anniversary I will be slipping into my dress, zipping it up and breathing with ease!  Take that married life!  You will not claim yet another (comfy) victim.

By Hilda Burke
www.angeleyesphotography.com