Phat Pants

I'll admit it. I haven't been officially thin, since high school. Minus a brief stint in my late 20's where I managed to shed 30 pounds, but still being in my 20's, I couldn't comphrehend, I was no longer fat.

It didn't matter I'd got my pants down to a single digit. Nope. I still thought I was fat.

And now, I've got the wisdom to understand, should I ever lose another 30 pounds, I shall celebrate this fact, and accept the fact that I may never be a size 5 in my lifetime again. Instead, I will do my best to appreciate myself even if I'm a size 8.

That's what size I was after the 30 pound shed.

Right now, I'm not even close to that, but I'm working on getting there. I'm overweight yes, that's true. But I can still fit into normal sizes, and I can ride anything I want to at Cedar Point.

But yesterday, on the street, as I was walking home from the farmers market with fresh vegatables to make glop, some teenage punks, called me fat, and made fun of me out the window.

Well, fuck them. I know I need to lose weight, but I'm not Carnie Wilson large. (No offense Carnie)

In my time, I'll get there. I've stopped beleiving that will make me more lovable. It will only make getting dressed and undressed, more enjoyable to me. Me alone.

Because even thinner, I didn't have men falling over me. I was fixated on being thinner still. With age, there is wisdom. I'm 33. If I get down to a single digit pant size, I'll be happy for myself and no one else.

I don't beleive, I'll be alone always, but I'm not doing this to meet somebody.

The person I'm looking for is me. The girl in the mirror doesn't know she's pretty, or smart.

I'm looking for the side of myself that likes to shop and put together fun outfits, but who will probably always go to the grocery store in sweat pants and no make up, because that's how it's done. Knowing I can look nice dressed up, or hanging out in a baseball cap and a t-shirt.

She's been hidden, but I have a feeling she's about to make a come-back.