I call 2010 the year I found my waist, but nearly lost my mind. Truly, it was both the best year and the worst year of my life all rolled into one. I started out at 210 pounds, making a last ditch effort to lose the weight I'd been trying to get rid of my entire life. When I succeeded in "the journey to my skinny jeans" I was absolutely shocked.
What floored me even more was that one could have a nervous breakdown in one's skinny jeans. Apparently, being thin did not make life that much easier. Imagine the let down. I had been somewhat overweight for most of my life, and all that time, I attributed many of my fears in life to the size of my skirt--that is--what people thought of me. Without really knowing it, I worried about it all the time.
In 2010, I set out to change my outside in order to fix my insides. In 2010, I learned the inside has to be well in order for the outside to be remade. True, I lost 60 pounds, but I also lost fears, doubt, anger, bitterness, and to a degree, certain inhibitions. The scale that monitored my emotional and spiritual well being said I gained forgiveness, courage, boldness, purpose, and peace.
Alas, one must not rest on one's laurels. It is 2013, and this morning I weighed in at 182 pounds. I really am not tragically unhappy with that number. After all, let's be reasonable! I had a baby, moved to another state and broke my foot, so a certain level of pudginess is to be expected, right? Wait, don't answer that . . .
It's gone beyond pudginess I suppose. Teenagers nowadays call it "mushroom-top." This phenomenon occurrs when girls of whatever size purposely buy low rider jeans that are, at the very least two sizes too small for them. Then, whatever flesh pours over the top of the jeans like so much lava from a volcano, is called their "mushroom top."
The reslutls of these clothing exposions vary in seriousness and destructive power. While some incidents result in tongue clucking from seniors and sentiments such as--"Poor dear! Her mother must be blind!"--other incidents are far more severe,. These upscale clothing crisis usually do involve more full figured consumers, and result in shrieks of horror, covering of the eyes, and permanent mental scaring. Combine a mushroom top with a thong sighting at the a mall, and an entire city population may need therapy for years!
And now, oh friends, it has happened to me! From the holiday feasting, Hiroshimom has emerged! January 1st, I went to put on my pants, and my ankle fat rolled into my knee fat, and my knee fat rolled into my thigh fat, and my thigh fat rolled into my waist fat, until it all rolled over at once. What a sight I must have been with my ankles and knees all hanging around my pockets!
If 2010 was the year I found my waist and lost my mind, than what follows must surely be known and Sarah's-Waist-Lost and Sarah's-Sanity-Regained. It will be another year of great changes, but this time I'll start on the inside and work my way out!