Fat Albert

Usually I only get on the scale on "skinny mornings."

Mornings when I wake up and feel like just maybe the number that pops up won't make me want to jump out a window.

Possibly the result of trying to 'cut back' the previous night, and only eat 2,500 calories after 7:00 pm.

This morning was not one of those mornings.

This morning I felt like Fat Albert.  A bloated version of Fat Albert.

And what did I do, you ask?

Well, I decided I would show that scale.

Bitch.

I got on that thing like I owned the world...and then I fainted.

Not really, but I did get a little woozy.

With Henry and Adeline cheering me on, I decided that catastrophic blow was not enough.

I would forge ahead and recklessly try on all my "real pants."

It is a sad and frightening day when you admit to yourself that maternity pants are for...pregnant people.

:(

My brain realized this was a terrible idea.  It really did.  Every brain cell in my skull was screaming:

"STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP."

"Why are you doing this; nothing good can come of this."

"This will plunge you into a hole of self-loathing so deep, you will need to be rescued like Baby Jessica."

And then my brain gave up;

"Fine, crazy bitch.  You asked for it."

And boy did I ask for it.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has done this?

There is not a snowball's chance in Hell those clothes were going to fit.  But a small part of me hoped.

Somehow. 

Someway. 

A miracle had occurred.

This person fell out of my butt ten weeks ago;

I believe in miracles.

And then a miracle happened. 

Henry chose this morning to talk.

"Hi Fatty, Hi Fatty, Hi Fatty. Hi FATTY!"

On this particular morning, I really wish we would have named our cat something else.