Loose Jeans and the Strawberry Dress

So much feels so crappy right now.  I have been spending time taking copious notes on just exactly how miserable I am about too many things — well, mostly all the same thing, just different aspects of it.  I am in the mood where even the good things are apt to garner tears.  Blah.

Instead of writing another vicious tirade to myself about how I wish things were different, I am taking a moment to pause and be grateful for some things that are the way they are, and some things that are in the process of changing for the better.

To bastardize what Jillian Michaels probably bastardized from someone else: Transformation is not a future event; it is a present activity.

Here’s to the present!

My jeans are loose.  They are size six.  I bought them a few months ago, and they were quite fitted.  At the moment, they are delightfully droopy, despite the scale seeming to be forever locked at about 138 pounds.

The other day, the child wanted me to wear a dress that matched her cherry-covered dress.  I remembered a strawberry dress I had made nearly fifteen years ago from a reproduction vintage pattern.  Long ago I had tucked it into a box under my bed rather than let it hang in my closet only to mock me and take up space.  Tonight, perhaps in a thwarted attempt at self-torture, I tried it on.  That motherfucker fits!  It looks kinda ridiculous on me, just like most everything I’ve ever sewn, but I could button the cute little strawberry buttons at my waist.  I remember that sucker being tight even back in the day, so I am a little excited and perplexed.

Today’s workout was a VHS tape that I have owned for longer than I have owned the strawberry dress.  I dreaded doing it even when I was twenty-two and pretty darn fit.  Yes, it kicked my ass today and made me sweat buckets, but it always has, and I did it.  And there was a time, not too long ago, when I wouldn’t have even considered taking that puppy off the shelf let alone firing up the VCR.

All this to say, that while I spend a fair amount of time bemoaning how much fitter and healthier I could be, there is mounting evidence to suggest that I am actually again approaching some of my fittest stats — despite the goddamn scale.

And I know fitness isn’t the only thing in the world, but being able to change my body and keep my eating and exercise in check not only makes me feel better about myself, it gives me hope that the other things I wish to change are not so far out of my reach.  Here’s to transformation!

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