Yes, this is my very own ass. I was inspired to write this post after reading this post from Citizen of the Month.That post horrified me, and I'll tell you why. Prior to becoming pregnant with Livvie I was 129 pounds and wore a size 4-6. As I gained weight I didn't care, because hey, I was pregnant and that's what you do. However, I need to admit that I was thrilled with the fact that I only gained 36 pounds. The doctor had wanted 35, and I felt very smug.
Five weeks after Livvie was born I was back in a size 4-6, and once again weighed 129 pounds. I was ecstatic. I couldn't believe my good fortune, and I jumped back into my pre-pregnancy clothes with abandon. I was awesome. I felt terrible for everyone who couldn't get their weight back though, and in retrospect I was an ass. I mean, so fucking what right? They were trying.
So I went on meds last April, and it never occurred to me that on these particular ones I would gain weight, but gain I did. Without even noticing very much the weight was creeping on, until one day I couldn't get the 6s over my hips and ass. I was devastated, and the only pair of jeans that fit were a pair that I hadn't washed and dried yet. I ended up not washing them for weeks, because I couldn't afford to go buy new. Finally my mom gifted me with enough money to go shopping, and I made plans to go to K-Mart. I also finally got on the scale, and I weighed 152 pounds. I was stunned. What the hell had happened? Ok, sure, I had become addicted to ice cream, but I had eaten like a fiend all of my life without gaining an ounce. When had this changed?
Oh, right. Meds. It occurred to me that this had all happened after I started the meds. So I dragged my widening ass to K-Mart and tried on some 8s. No go. With reluctance I tried on the 10s and they fit, albeit a bit big around the waist. Unfortunately they were the only ones I could get over the booty. I sadly took my 10s home and made the decision to lose the weight, or some of it anyway. I wanted to lose 12 pounds and get to 140, and into 8s. 8s weren't so bad, but for some reason 10s seemed like the end of the world. I was terrified that Rich would think I was fat and not be attracted to me anymore. So onto the elliptical machine I went (for 3 days, as I'm sure I mentioned). I started snacking on carrots and cauliflower, avoiding ice cream most nights of the week, and drinking tons of water.
And then something happened. I went to lunch with my best friend and she called me skinny. Huh? How could I be skinny when I weighed 23 pounds more than I did when I WAS skinny? I got home and took a look at myself in the mirror, and realized she was right. I might have gained the weight, but I now looked like an average woman instead of a swizzle stick. I finally had boobs and a J Lo butt, and I was voluptuous. Rock on. I got on the scale 2 weeks later and I was down to 143. I had a moment of feeling victory, and then realized I really didn't care. STress had lost the weight at that time, and that's the wrong way to go about it.
So I went on the ice cream diet and gained back 7 pounds. The 10s don't bag on my ass anymore. Rich still loves me. And what's more important is that I love me.
So this is what a 10 looks like. And I couldn't be happier.
