Below follows what for me is a depressing story, but for you might brighten a Monday morning.

I had to do “the hop” last night. I’m sure many of you are familiar with the hop. It is the dance we all loathe.

Out of curiosity, I pulled down a pair of last winter’s jeans just to reinforce the fact that I haven’t gained weight (note to self- don’t EVER set myself up that way again!). I mean, I had been thinking I had gained a few pounds, but it wasn’t noticeable, so being that we don’t have a scale in the house I thought I’d pull out last year’s jeans to gage the gainage, because in my mind clothes don’t lie. I don’t care what anyone else says- you won’t convince me otherwise. 

I pulled the jeans up to my knees and as I got to my hips (which are a little too curvy anyway) I knew I was going to have a problem. Still unconvinced and in a huge stage of denial about the fact that maybe these great jeans no longer fit like a glove and more like spandex I breathed in (because if you can button them that’s all that counts, right? ha), and resorted myself to the dreaded hop. I am so unbalanced, so when I do this I hop all across the room and look like I’m attempting some old 80s dance move. It’s sad really. It took not one, not two, but THREE hops before those puppies were on. Who was I kidding- here is a rule of thumb: unless you are a cowgirl and wear wranglers on a regular basis, if you have to perform a hop into your jeans, you should not ever wear them.

I seriously tried to justify wearing them, even lowering myself to the thought of, “I wonder if I shaved and got some good moisturizer on if that would help me slip them on better.” Okay- how stupid is that!? I might as well start painting my pants on if I’m willing to resort to body oil to get dressed in the morning!! 

I managed to get them button and zipped. I even did the sit test- I’m sure you ladies all know this one too: if you can sit in your pants and your blood pressure doesn’t drop to the point of fainting you are still good to go. Well, that too is not a very good rule. It’s more of one of those “last hope” rules because you desperately want to hold to any thread of hope and excuse to keep a certain pant even though you know wearing them gives everyone in your office an open invitation to whisper behind your back, “ Oh No She Did NOT wear those! I feel so sorry for those pants!” I’m sure others would whisper I should be featured at Ripley’s Believe it or Not due to the miracle feat of actually maintaining the color of my skin while wearing such life-restricting pants. You just can’t loose your clothing reputation on a pair of pants you know are a little snug. Okay- who am I kidding these pants were more than “a little snug,” but the cushion of saying it that way makes me feel a little better.

So THEN, as if my stupid lotion and sit test stuff wasn’t enough- I broke the final rule of fashion. The rule even the worst clothing crisis will not justify: The Squat.

Okay- totally make fun of me here, I am even embarrassed as I type.

Yes, I did The Squat. Don’t act like you’ve never been tempted to do the same! For those of you who are in the dark- the Squat is the sad attempt to stretch your pants’ fibers to fit you instead of you fitting them. To do this, you literally do a squat while you pray aloud that when you come back up to your normal standing position the Lord will have somehow allowed your favorite pair of jeans to comfortably form to the curves of your body and make your once too tight pants fit just right.

That is how the ritual is preformed.

I did a few squats as I prayed aloud and then realized that the larger matter at hand is not the jeans- it’s the fact that I am in the squatting position praying I can wear them. “Okay Brittny, look at yourself! You’re squatting! At least have the dignity to realize your weight gain with class.” Ha- I disregarded that thought and did one more Prayerful Squat.

As I finished my last clothing workout move, Will got home. I greeted him in tears and an, “I’m fat.” I know he was probably terrified to enter the door after a welcoming statement like that. We talked a little while about out days and everything else and then he told me that he thought I was beautiful and just right,to which I responded,

“You know what? I love you and I know you mean well, but it just pisses me off more when you say that. I don’t know why, but it does. Probably because I’m standing here in these freaking jeans as they are preparing to bust. Maybe if you told me after I changed I’d feel a little better.”

“Sooo, is it better for me not to say anything at all?”

“Good idea.”

I decided after my “Weigh-in” it was time to change clothes and really think about what I’ve been doing to my body. Many of the apartments the company provides have gyms, but of course ours does not. Because of that, I haven’t worked out since I started working 2 months ago. Ugh. That just adds to my yucky feelings because I have been so used to making exercise an integral part of my life and now I have not made it a priority. I asked my parents for an elliptical for Christmas, so I’m hoping that will help.

So, my guess is that I’ve put on about 5 pounds since we’ve been in Kuwait. Sigh- so easy to put on, so hard to take off. I could go on and on about this topic- I frequently do- but I think you get my jist. I CAN’T HOP into all my winter clothes. I’m really going to have to buckle down and get some support, hence why I hope our fellow nestie’s site is a success. Maybe once I get my elliptical and into a better routine I will be able to count my Hop and Squat free days. J

Hop… I mean Hope you guys have a wonderful day back (Yes, I DID just say that)!