I am really sure of it. I put on a cardigan this morning that I haven’t worn in at least six months and it was too tight. Guh. But on top of that, I just feel gross and fat. I was really freaked this morning, wanting so badly to find that scale that my husband hid from me, so I could use those bad numbers to tell myself how bad, bad, bad I am and get started on the next new diet that is going to fix everything forever and ever amen.
I did run 3.2 miles this morning, but I ran them really slowly. Not that that means that those miles “don’t count” but they certainly are another indication that I’m fatter. It takes more work to propel a fatter body around.
In general, I’m pretty good at sticking to a budget and not overspending on things except clothing. The clothing is not, like for most women, a cathartic “retail therapy” thing. Its far more screwed up than that. I normally buy extremely cheap, poorly made clothing, such as cotton cardigans from Target and business-casual pants from Old Navy. I buy them there because I can cram myself into their XXL tops and size 18’s pretty easily, and because I don’t “deserve” to invest in more moderately-priced but much higher-quality clothing… until I lose the weight. This means that my entire wardrobe is in a constant state of falling apart. The outfit I am wearing today is a pair of black, cuffed Lane Bryant pants bought at least 5 years ago that are nearly worn through at the thigh, a polyester black camisole bought at Old Navy at least 4 years ago, and a black cotton cardigan bought at Target about a year and a half ago. The camisole isn’t in terrible shape, and its actually one of the few I have right now that fit well and aren’t tight. But the cardigan is faded to a weird shade of green because, of course, it was cheaply made and cheaply dyed. All three black pieces don’t match.
So, in a fit of poor self-image, I think, “all I really need is something new to wear and I will feel better,” and I roll into Target (or Old Navy) and buy a relatively cheap outfit– any outfit, really, that I can find that fits me and is suitably modest– and it will, in general, make me feel better when I wear it the next two or three times. But inevitably the clothes disintegrate and/or I realize it is horribly unflattering but I can’t throw it away because I spent money on that and I need to get my money’s worth. But its also another kind of psychological blow, because I know I only bought those clothes as a fleeting way to comfort myself for hating my fat body, and that I made myself buy the cheap ones because I am convinced this body is transitional and doesn’t deserve to be well-garbed until it assumes the size I have arbitrarily determined is suitable.
One of my “rules” is that I don’t restrict myself from buying workout-related stuff. I don’t want to give myself any excuses not to strap up and head out for a run. Its not like I run out and buy a bunch of unnecessary DVDs or workout equipment that gathers dust in my (currently nonexistent) garage. I buy running clothes, running shoes, socks, and tunes for my Nike+ iPod (seriously the best thing ever invented). Last night I decided I wasn’t going to treat myself like crap and buy another too-tight Target XL workout tee that would chafe, or ride up and make me embarassed of my belly, and only get worn once or twice before I shoved it to the back of a drawer. So, I ordered three Lands’ End workout shirts, all in a size 2X, and I know their 2X to be very generous on my frame. In fact, just this morning I ran in an XL workout shirt I bought from Land’s End that is just a hair too small right now, but nothing close to embarassing.
So. That’s one nice thing I did for myself. We won’t discuss how I ate entirely so much last night my stomach hurt, though.