I’ve got to quit slipping into something more comfortable.
Better explain before this entry goes way off track. These sweat pants have gotten way to comfortable. The “I’ll just go up a size in case they shrink” has given me way too much wiggle room. After a long day at work I come home, fend off a 2 1/2-year-old temper tantrum, handle the logistics of my super busy son, usually do a dish or two or thousand, trip over something the 10-year-old left in a glaringly rude place (like the middle of the floor) and direct dinner. I can’t even claim that I cook dinner—my hubby is quick to step into that task. Once all the balls are in the air I head off to slip into ‘something more comfortable.’
That’s where the trouble starts.
Does anyone else put on something that is too big and have a moment where you convince yourself you’ve shed a few pounds? Yeah. Me too.
Once I am in sweat pant heaven I am not nearly as productive. Once swathed in the comfort of fleece I tend to get less task oriented and more comfort minded. I swear these things have magnets that pull me toward the couch. Or maybe it’s because my arse has become so big that it acts like the sun and gravity is what is pulling me toward the couch.
I am all for comfort but I am thinking that I am allowing myself to become way TOO comfortable…with this size, this shape and this blobbiness that has become my silhouette.
Maybe I should stay uncomfortable in binding tops with actual waistbands and non-giving fabric. Maybe.
Just 6 years ago I looked like this: