So
let's say there's a pair of jeans in the laundry basket. Recently
washed, recently partially air-dried, then finished off in the dryer
on the lowest heat setting, so they don't mildew. But because they
were in the hamper for a while, and then because it took a day and a
half to air-dry them before I chucked them in the dryer, I haven't
worn them for a bit. Five days, maybe? Six? And even though they're
my absolute FAVORITE JEANS, and I have been wearing them for YEARS, I
am nervous about putting them on. So I hang them up in the closet
instead, and wear the same pair of jeans I wore the day before. Even
though I don't love them. Even though I would rather be wearing my
favorite pair.
I
threw out my $7 scale over a year ago (some days I weighed 130 in the
morning and 210 in the afternoon, and something about that just
didn't seem right) so I mostly use my clothes to gauge whether I've
gained or lost weight. And when I haven't worn something in a few
days, like my favorite jeans, I start to panic that I'm going to try
to put them on and not be able to pull them over my knees or
something. Like perhaps I've done exactly what my scale always tried
to convince me I was doing on a daily basis. And it gets
exponentially worse if I've WASHED them, because it's possible they
will have SHRUNK, and gotten STIFF, and I will be able to feel even
the most MARGINAL OF CHANGES IN SIZE.
Am
I right? The worst feeling is when I finally put them on, and they
feel... off. You know? And the whole time I'm wearing them,
I'm thinking, should they really feel this snug across the hips? Am I
imagining that they're pulling a little across my butt? Did I dry
them for too long or did my suddenly enlarged thighs turn them into
DENIM LEGGINGS BEFORE MY VERY EYES? And usually I'll wear them for a
couple of days, until they're all loose and baggy and should not be
worn in public unless I want someone to take pity on me and hand me a
sandwich and some loose change. And I feel WAY BETTER about myself
when they're all stretched out and saggy; sometimes, I even FORGET
that they're stretched out and saggy, and I put them on and think,
“holy crap, Self? You should have a COOKIE or two! DANG but
these jeans are getting WAY TOO BIG!” And then I eat those cookies,
and maybe a pizza, and maybe some fries, and maybe some of Asher's
fries, and then it's time to wash them again after I wipe my greasy
hands on the legs, and then? After I wash them? It's time to do
Paragraph One of this entry, ALL OVER AGAIN.
I
do this all year round, but it's particularly painful in the winter,
when the rain and the darkness and the cold keeps me from running
five miles a day, or pushing the kids around the lake in the
stroller. I'm trying to work up enough enthusiasm to break out my 30
Day Shred video for the days I can't get outside, but it is so hard
to eat dinner and put the kids to bed and not want to just collapse
on the couch with my laptop for the remainder of the night. I am
trying to get up and run in the morning, but I am having this Major
Sleep Issue where it doesn't matter whether the baby wakes up one
time or 2500 times a night, I cannot fall back asleep. I have never
struggled with this kind of thing before, so it is KILLING ME.
Also,
my back hurts.
So
yeah, it scares me when my favorite jeans are clean and I might have
to put them on. Because I haven't been exercising like I was in the
early fall, or the summer, or the spring, and exercise is my
foolproof way of staying out of my old size 12 (OKAY, 14, YOU GOT ME)
pants. Good eating habits are not. TRUE STORY.
I
don't know how to wrap all of this up and end this entry so LISTEN TO
THIS. I was over at my parents' house a couple of weeks ago, and it
was a warmish kind of day, and there were bugs EVERYWHERE. (Yes,
these bugs.) Mostly the bugs stayed on the outside of the screened-in
porch, but some of those creepers lucked into flying through a crack
or a hole or something, so there were three or four inside the living
room. So I told my mom about them, and she got all irritated, you
know, “WHY do we pay an exterminator if we're going to have to
exterminate them OURSELVES,” and she dragged a chair over to the
wall where the bugs were clinging so she could reach them and then,
instead of smacking them with a rolled-up newspaper or a shoe, you
know, like a normal person would, SHE SCRAPED THEM INTO A PLASTIC
BAGGIE.
“Mom,
what are you doing?” I asked. My first thought was that she
was trying to SAVE them, which is RIDICULOUS, and I am a professed
Saver of Many Animals, including mice and turtles and worms. But she
wasn't. She was going to collect them and give them to my father.
I
don't think you would ever, in a million bazillion years, guess what
my father was doing with those bugs. And it just occurred to me that maybe you might want to take a stab at
it? For a prize? Go ahead, guess in the comments. If anyone gets it right, I'll
gladly scrape together some kind of delightful care package. But I won't have to,
because OMG, you guys, WHO ON EARTH WOULD COLLECT BUGS FOR THE REASON MY DAD DOES?
Dude, my family is so weird. No seriously, go on. GUESS. (I'll tell you on Monday, unless someone guesses, and then I'll just update this post with the winner and the correct answer.)