Tuesday, March 03, 2009


About a month ago, while getting ready for work, I bent over to pick something up and the lining in the seat of my pants ripped. How embarrassing. Thankfully, I was home and it was only the inside lining of the pants and not the outer fabric. A week later, the same thing happened again, different pants. Although both pairs were from Ann Taylor and I've had them for a few years. "Huh," I thought to myself, "I must be sending these to the dry cleaners too often. The fabric must be becoming thread-bare or something." I brought both pairs to the tailor and resolved to look into hand-washing my dress pants. I mean, it's probably better for the environment anyway, right?

Then about week after that, I put on a pair of freshly washed jeans. Except, funny, they wouldn't button. Even my fail-safe measure crouching up and down to stretch them out didn't work. I mean, these weren't even close to buttoning. Strange. I could have sworn they fit just last week. Maybe I need to shorten the amount of time my jeans are in the dryer?

Later that day, wearing a different pair of jeans, I couldn't help to notice that they were kind of uncomfortable. Like, they didn't fit well. And then I got to thinking about how there were other pants that I had recently stopped wearing because they were uncomfortable as well. My mind floated back to the jeans that would not button and then, suddenly, to the dress pants with the split seams. A lightbulb went off.

It may seem absurd, but until that moment it didn't occur to me that all these things were related. That the problem was not that my clothes were magically shrinking. My ass was getting big.

I've gained weight before, but I swear I've never split pants open before. I got on a scale. Oh yeah. Right there in black and white. Twenty pounds up from my ideal weight, 15 pounds up from my post-baby weight. Sweet Jesus.

I mean, I know, I haven't really been trying. Not working out, not eating well. What exactly did I expect to happen? The alarming part is that I didn't really notice this expansion.

So, I finally started going to yoga practice. It's only been two weeks so far, but it's a start. Ron and I bought an exercise bike. We assembled it over the weekend but have yet to ride it. It was Ron's idea to buy it. My thoughts were originally that it would become an oversized clothes hanger. I have yet to meet a person who has purchased in-house exercise equipment and actually uses it.

I'm realizing now though that we have no choice. Ron's gained more weight than I have and so exercise is becoming crucial. Diet alone is not going to be enough. Ron is rapidly approaching 40 and has a family history of heart problems. Actually, I have a family history of heart problems too. Plus, I'm vain. Plus, if I am ever to have another baby (something that's being postponed for awhile, but that's another story), it certainly is not going to help to be 20 pounds overweight from the start. All vanity aside though, I don't want our weight issue to become a medical issue. So exercise we must.

Inertia is a funny thing. I know, in my heart, that exercising will make me feel better, and yet, laziness has a firm grasp on me right now. Someone who used to exercise twice a day, back at square one. After my first yoga practice, Ron and Rolo met me at the Starbucks across the street. Ron asked me how the class was, and I replied, "It's the first time I've felt like myself in a year and a half." "I'm glad," he said as he smiled. By the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew that by getting me the yoga classes, he was buying back pieces of his wife.

So back to square one. Ron and I allowed our lives to be railroaded over the last year. Time to get back on track.

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