F'n Fitting Rooms!

I hate fitting rooms. The bright florescent light the bare white walls the pants that for all rights and purposes should fit but don't. I hate fitting rooms. I hate the to small space, when I hit my wenis (skin on your elbow) on the pegs that hang off the wall for you to hang your stuff on. I hate their little benches and painfully patterned carpet. I hate fitting rooms. Even my husband hates them, he hates that he doesn't fit in them and he doesn't go into them all that often. Truth of the matter is I hate the truth behind the fitting room door.

I know I am obese. Have known for a while. But when I was trying on pants the other day I remembered how much I hate them. I have a size 20 pants at home that fit enough. So I tried a 20 at the store. Couldn't get them over my ass. I tried a size 22 and I couldn't button them. The one pair of 24's they had left buttoned and zipped but I felt like a mushroom in Mario Brothers. How? I know different cuts and crap. But when I try on several different cuts and nothing works that is a problem.

I was getting all upset in there. I was ready to cry. I was ready to throw things and be angry. But it wasn't the pants fault. It wasn't the mirror or the size of the fitting room it was the Long John Silvers that I had for lunch and the pizza I had for dinner the night before. It was the water I haven't been drinking and the gym membership I haven't been so faithful with. Its the lies I justify and the truths I try to hide. I am no different than a year ago. I just know more, and I choose not to use it.

I could sit here and blame everything else in my life, but why? I am not even going to give an excuse/reason here. I am just going to tell it as it is. I put the pants back on the hangers. I fixed my hair and put my jacket back on. I held my head up when I walked out of the fitting room. When Becky looked at me to see if I was happy I shook my head. She knew in a second what it was. If it was Dave or my kids or anyone else in the world I might have let it go there. But as Becky and I walked out of the store I told her the truth. She didn't criticize me, or laugh at me. She said me too. We walked away talking. The days we had missed at the gym and so on and so forth and we knew that we needed one another.

I have this great glass jar on my desk that says pounds lost. In another jar there are rocks that Becky and I collected from the beach. That jar says poundage. There are 25 in there. Not one has moved. This week I plan to see one make it from poundage to lost.

Short prayer and then off to spend time logging my food.

Dear God, Thank You for today! Thank you for the moments I get to spend with my family. I know that these are the moments that are going to stay with me and my kids for the rest of my life. Thank You for loving me, for making me Your own. Please be with my Grandma Kelly and my Uncle Marlin and the son of a friend from long ago, Noah Galloy, who is waiting for a bone marrow transplant. God please be with us all in our times of need. In Your name we pray. Amen