I Didn't Find That Funny At All

Mom took me shopping yesterday. It was 7 hours of pure hell. The first couple hours were fun, we laughed and made fun of all the "hip" and "cool" clothes out there. We laughed a lot.

Here's the deal. My birthday is next week and I don't own a single pair of jeans that doesn't have a tear or a patch on them. My shoes are a year old and offer no support whatsoever. Mom said she'd spend $100 on me for clothes and well, it just didn't work out so good.

We went to every store in town that sells sneakers, jeans and capris. I tried on 36,691 pairs of pants and 16,583 pairs of shoes. When we got to my house afterward I was nearly in tears. I held up a Wal-Mart bag to my husband and proclaimed, "SEE! SEE!! I didn't come in empty handed! I got--wait till you see this! I got toothpaste, ooooh! And shampoo--family size, no less. OOH! And I got a treat for LuLu!!" (LuLu is our cockatiel)

So what was the problem? I'll tell you the problem. Many brands don't even make jeans in so-called petite or short.

Did you try the kids' department?

Yes, but children don't come with child-bearing hips and a Cadillac butt. I can't wear them. If I go into Husky or Girl's Plus, the legs are about an inch too short and the width of the legs, about 5 inches to wide.

There ought to be a international standard for sizes, like the metric system. All brands are different. In some brands I might wear a 2 or a 5 or a 3 or 6. Go ahead and just try to figure that out.

I can't have white, no no, that would be WHITE shoes for work. They'd be so dirty in a week that you'd think I'd have owned them for a year. We couldn't find ANYTHING!! I have short, wide feet so I tried Women's Wide sizes, Boys shoes, Girl's Wide shoes and NOTHING!!

I'm walking around in a pair of Reeboks that I bought out of desperation for $22 almost a year ago. Mom asked me if my feet hurt. My calves do get sore, but what can I do?

Oh, and do not get me started on stretchy jeans! Mom asked me why ALL the jeans in the juniors' department were stretchy. I told her that's so the skinny girls can fit into skin-tight pants and still breathe and the fat girls can fit into them to--well, fit into them.

Mom thought the stretchy pants were something you'd be more apt to find in the older ladies department. Ha, ha! Not so. Our country is getting fatter by the second and there is Lycra spandex EVERYWHERE!

I hate the stretchy pants. I refuse to conform. I refuse to let the Lycra hug my every crinkle. I refuse to conform to Low Rise pants with the 2 inch crotch. I refuse to have all my stomach fat pushed upward and ever be able to bend or sit down for fear of exposing my butt crack.

What about the pants I own now? I bought them at JC Penny and they fit wonderfully!!

They don't make them anymore. HA HA!!!!
I actually bought my last 2 pair from a chick on eBay. That's pretty sad, huh?

I'm afraid to go out in the rain because my pants might just disenegrate on me and I'd be walking around in my skivies. I imagine coming home and Shawn asking me, "Why are walking around in your underwear?" And I'd have to explain that my pants just melted in the rain all Star Trek Style.

What am I going to do? These companies cater to the Skinny Minnies and the Large and in Charge. I'm going to have to lose about 15 pounds just to able to buy some pants.

That's another thing. Most women think their fat, or at least fat in this area or that place. There's nothing like a shopping trip to make someone feel their fattest.

Is my butt really that wide? I wasn't even aware that it stuck out that far! Are those my love handles? Good grief, I thought I had feeling pretty darn good about myself after I'd lost all that weight. That's what I get for thinking.

Last night I pondered over all the things I'd do to get in shape. I could start running in the evening, eat more fruit instead of meat.

I'll start Monday. I was upset and i eat when I am upset. I ate 2 trays of those marshmallow Peeps and an entire bag of popcorn. Even then I was eyeing the leftover pizza in the fridge. I took out some pork chops from the freezer and planned to batter and fry them the next day.

Ah, like Mom used to do. She'd batter them like chicken fried steak and fry them in golden grease. She'd add buttery mashed potatoes while we all smeared butter on our bread.

Here's the kicker: She'd eat a large salad and pick at dinner because she was "watching her weight".
Mom weighed like 300 pounds or something 25 years ago. She exercised 4 hours a day and ate 1 apple each day. Nothing else. After all that became too much she made some healthier eating choices and has been thin ever since. The problem I have is that I can't eat like her. I don't like any vegetable out there except potatoes (very fatty) and corn on the cob slathered in butter.

But I know what will happen with me. It happens every time. I'll vow to become a Skinny Minnie and decide on a plan. That'll last about a week and then I'll have some Peeps and a bag of popcorn.