I think that Fat Days might be one of the worst feelings ever. Now, technically, I understand that feeling fat really isn’t the worst feeling ever but try telling that to a woman on one of her fat days. She would probably take another bad feeling in it’s place just to escape the bloating, tight jeans, round face, swollen hands/feet, overall ickiness that she is plagued with. Some might argue that a Bad Hair Day is equally as daunting and traumatic but they would be wrong! You can put a hat on your head to cover your hair. There is only so much you can put over your butt to hide it before you start looking like one of those ladies that get nominated for the “What Not To Wear” show. Claiming comfort and time limitations are the reason for the full body cover up. All the while, we know that she probably just had one to many fat days and gave up.
Yesterday, I experienced one of these mind freaking, soul tormenting fat days. I don’t know where it came from because I have been pretty much killing myself with this running thing and well…my eating is normal…for me. I exercise alot so I can eat alot. That’s my theory on living a happy life. Anyways, it took me all day to figure out what to wear. You know…put something on…wear it for a while…hate it…go change…three times…wear that for a while…hate it…clothes all over your bed, your closet and your floor…continue this until you have no other choice but to leave the house in the last thing that you threw on your body. Ugh! Then, as if this would cheer me up, I step on the scale. What? Really? Who’s bright idea was that? With only a couple pounds difference, really nothing more than water weight, I proceed to step on and off the scale in an attempt to get a smaller number. Again…What? Crazy lady…yes I am! So the scale doesn’t budge…so I slump into the “I am so fat” for the rest of the day routine with my husband.
Now husbands might have it worse than anyone on the planet on these days because what are their options really? If I were a husband, I would want to tell me to shut up and be grateful for the body that I have because last night on the Biggest Loser any of those women would trade bodies with me in a second. Good thing I am not a husband. I would probably be divorced by now. 
But my sweet, always loving, never judging husband just repeated three words over and over to me. “You’re not fat.” “You’re super sexy.” “You’re body’s perfect.” All day long. Accompanied with a hug, a soft kiss and a solid hug, Lang did his best to fight the fat demons in my head. I appreciated all his effort. I appreciated even more the adoring look he gave me as I sat on the coach in my pink sweatpants and over sized tee shirt, eating chocolate chip cookies. Because, apparently, he got the memo that sweats and cookies are the cure-all for Fat Days.
I am hoping for a better day today. A less fat day. Perhaps I should lay off the cookies for a while. Lang has strict instructions to not let me make anymore cookies for awhile. Cookies are my weakness. I can walk away from any other food but not cookies. Yummmmmm. Or maybe I should invest in some second-hand moo-moo’s and wait for Stacy and Clinton (from What Not To Wear) to show up at my door.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Carla
Filed under: New Normal
