You may recall I wrote about Losing Weight And Other Inconveniences back at the beginning of June. In this self-prophesying post I mentioned I would be down a size by the end of July. I forgot to tell you, however, that I was talking about July 2010. Which is a good thing because there’s only one week left of July 2009 and it’s not EVEN gonna happen.
We’re getting ready for our vacation and I went to the outlets today to get a few more clothing items. Oh my, did I ever see such cute clothes. I coveted crops, capris and camies. I drooled over dresses and denim. I swooned over skirts, shirts and even sweats. I was bewitched by blouses, bermudas and yes, brassieres. I admired activewear and longed for loungewear. I yearned for — well, you get the idea. Not only were the clothes appealing to me, the end of summer sales were enticing as well. I could have gone crazy.
Clothes for those of us with more to love are so limited. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired that there isn’t more of a selection for the ultracurvy and I’m tired of being ultracurvy.
For a good while there I could rationalize the extra weight. Surgery, chemo, medications, more surgeries and more medications… it was understandable that I had gained so much. It’s been two years, however, since my last surgery. I have no excuses anymore. Yes, it’s harder than it used to be for a couple very real reasons, but it’s not impossible.
I’ve decided I need a drill sergeant with me at all times. Someone to yell at me and call me “grunt” or “boot licker” for those moments of weakness. When I choose to watch TV instead of going for a walk. When I reach for the ice cream or those infernal cow tails that have me under their spell. When I drink too much coffee and not enough water.
Obviously my own misery isn’t enough motivation. Nor are all the pictures I keep being tagged in on Facebook. Those that when I see them I gasp and think, “Oh my gosh. I don’t really look like that, do I?” The ones that crumble the delusions of my imagination.
I would ask Todd to be my drill sergeant, but no good could come of that. I would just get angry at him for being so mean to me and then he’d just feel bad and go to the store and buy me a box of Goobers and probably Starbucks for a venti White Chocolate Mocha with extra whip.
What’s the point right now, though? I’m off for almost two weeks of vacation and I’m certainly not going to be all that good. I’ll start up fresh the second week in August. Maybe by that time I’ll have found someone to yell at me without making me mad. And by July 2010 I’ll be shopping for the modestly curvy!