Confessions of a size 6

Truth be told, I never really had a weight problem. I was one of those unusual people that didn't really gain much weight. I'm on the tall side for a girl, and for the most part had no idea what I weighed. If the clothes fit me, I was happy. Well into my 20's, I was still wearing the pants I wore in high school (fashion sense aside.)

But, then a funny thing happened... my 30's. During my 30's I discovered that the odd size 0/2, I had been for a majority of my life, would now give way to a solid size 4. This was fine by me, as some of those high school clothes were starting to fall apart and well, let's face it, it was time to upgrade a little. Insert better living and some feelings of "power of self" and I was doing ok. Throw in some kids in the mix (two lovely boys actually) and some stretching from pregnancies, but you know, I was alright. It was the ONE thing, I felt good about. While, I wasn't blonde, big boobed, or one of those "lovely" personality people most folks wanted to hang out with---I was thin. That was my "thing"--besides being incredibly funny.

But, what no one prepared me for, was my 40's. During this decade, I've discovered the "flat tire." That lovely thing that happens almost overnight, where your pants no longer close in the front and an unbelievable band of "fat" wraps itself around your waist. The commercials of my youth with the tag line, "Can you pinch an inch?" referring to the amount of fat around your middle with the prescription to eat Kellogg's Special K cereal--kept flooding back. As memory serves, there were even print ads with stickers you could use to put on the calendar to determine how many times you replaced a meal with the cereal. And to add insult to injury, the 10lbs that seemingly will NOT leave and continue to creep back, have now sent me into the solid size 6 category. 

As a result, I've become one of those. You know those annoying thin people that complain about their weight. Those people that when you see eating a salad you want to reach across the table and scream, "Eat some real damn food! You ridiculous rabbit!" Yes, those  people.

I even started reading anything and everything that I could on safely and effectively loosing weight. I know, the answer is always better exercise and diet, but after chasing after two little kids all day, managing house hold and eating the healthy stuff, I try to get the kids to eat, I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to change here either. And although, I almost bought the "stress releasing hormone" argument, I think that life is as stressful as you make it, so I can't lay blame there.

So, the bottom line is this--I'm a size 6 and I have new clothes to prove it. In my 50's (assuming the same trending) I'm going to be a size 8. And so, on and so forth. I suppose this is part of the aging process we're all supposed to gracefully embrace. But, I'll tell you one thing, if my hair all of a sudden starts turning gray-- I'm going to freak.