Wednesday, May 17, 2006

If Size 12 is Not Fat, I'm...Fat

I've put on a good 25 pounds in the last year, and I no longer know for sure what size clothing is right for me. Thanks to my mother's genes, I have the unfortunate trait of storing much of my excess fat in my tummy, giving me the appearance of a "beer gut" or of pregnancy. Thanks, Mom.

I hit the thrift store this afternoon and found two pairs of pants that worked for me. One was a size 12 from The Gap, which must mean it's a size 99 in real life, what with "vanity sizing" and all. Clearly the Gap only wants me to buy their clothes, so that I feel thin when I'm in their store, and plump everywhere else.

The other pair of pants was a size Large. In maternity wear. You know the kind: if you wear a shirt that goes just below the waist, then it looks like you have regular pants, but pulling up the shirt reveals that knit fabric with the really thick elastic waistband inside. I didn't try it on in the store, but a quick hold-it-against-my-waist told me it would fit just fine.

I spent most of the afternoon trying to live that down. For heaven's sake, I gave birth two years ago. I seriously doubt I'm pregnant, and even if I am, there's no way my tummy should be sticking out this much this soon.

I won't even get into the horrors of swimsuit shopping, which I did later this evening.

When I got home I modeled my new clothes for Bizarro Dad. The maternity pants were quite a relief after weeks (months?) of all my other pants squeezing me. He said they looked nice. He also said "we" need to start working out and trying to lose weight if I've reached the point of maternity wear.

He weighs 280 pounds. He is 100 pounds overweight (according to Marine Corps standards, which he no longer is required to adhere to). I am only 25 pounds overweight. And honestly, I'm probably only really 15 pounds overweight, when you take into account my 10-pound chestal extremities. No offense, oh love of my life, but you needed to "start working out" back before we got married. Also: I'm approaching 30. I don't have the same metabolism I had ten years ago. I do yard work and I chase two kids around all day, so it's not like I live a sedentary lifestyle. So don't give me this "we" shit. Butt nugget.

Anyway, I pointed out to my husband that my new maternity pants were really no different than the elastic-waisted jogging pants he wears constantly. Except mine look nice. Mine can be worn out, even on a date. His have paint stains. Even the one without stains still looks incredibly tacky when he wears it out in public.

Yeah, I felt really bad about having to buy maternity pants. But then I tried them on when I got home, and you know what? Those babies are the most comfortable pair of pants I've ever owned in my LIFE. More comfortable than the linen ones from Old Navy. More comfortable than the maternity pants I used to wear when I WAS pregnant. Screw what anyone else thinks about my clothing. I may very well buy nothing but maternity pants. And I'm not going to let myself feel anything but happy that I finally have clothes that are comfortable.

Unless, of course, "I" lose some weight when "we" finally go work out.


No comments: