I have always been in awe of the celebrities out in Hollywood who have a baby, and then emerge from their home about a month or so later looking like they were never pregnant at all. Here I am, about 14 years since I popped out my last kid, and I am STILL carrying around the extra baby weight. Of course, after 14 years, you really can’t call it “baby weight” anymore. You simply call it fat.
So, I had been carrying those few extra pounds around for quite some time and failed to notice that over the holidays I had added on a few more extra pounds. And a couple more after that. How is it possible that I could not notice ten more pounds on top of the extra ten, er, fifteen, I was already toting behind me?
The problem was the jeans.
It used to be that jeans were just made with denim and had a certain amount of give to them, but not much. This is why we had to lay down on the bed years ago and use a wire hanger to zip our jeans up. But jeans today have so much lycra thrown in with the denim, that they can stretch a good two to three pants sizes before you realize that your former skinny jeans have given you such a big muffin top that you could be a product model for a box of Hostess cupcakes.
While this is a good look for a muffin or cupcake, it is not a particularly good look for a person.
However, denial, as well all know, is not a river in Egypt, but rather a string of lies we tell ourselves to feel better about getting f-a-t. These include the ever-popular, “I’m not fat, I’m bloated,” “I have big bones,” and my personal favorite, “I have a slow metabolism.”
But denial only works when the people you deny it to corroborate the lie. This is not something your doctor is likely to do. So when I went to the doctor this week – something I have avoided for two years because I knew the evil little man was going to weigh me – I was not all that surprised when he told me I DO NOT have a slow metabolism. I DO NOT have big bones. And I AM NOT bloated. I am fat. And I didn’t get that way from having a baby. I got that way from eating too much.
I know. I was shocked too.
He gave me two choices. Either duct tape my mouth shut, or go on a diet.
First I tried the duct tape.
Did you know you can actually get quite a bit of chocolate in around the edges of the duct tape?
Realizing that plan wasn’t going to work, I set off for the nearest Jenny Craig.
At Jenny Craig I got weighed for the second time that day. Shockingly, it was the same number that came up at the doctor’s office which made me realize just how many faulty scales there are in the world that need to be recalibrated.
Jenny herself, wasn’t actually there. But one of her elfs assured me that if I stuck to the plan I could reach my weight loss goals.
I told her my weight loss goals were to look like a Victoria’s Secret model.
She said this was Jenny Craig, not Fantasy Island.
So I lowered my expectations, bought a lot of her food and came home.
Now it is week two of my Jenny Craig diet. I will check in here from time to time so all of my fellow mommy friends can root me on and convince me to stay the course when bags of Doritos jump out of the pantry, block my path, and demand that I eat them.
… which happens often around here on Fantasy Island.
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