Yesterday while I was at work, it happened. It’s been building up for a while now and I was hoping I could keep it under control, but the pot finally boiled over and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
My coworkers saw my ass.
My scrubs won’t cover my ass without help. And by help I mean I have to keep pulling up my pants. Or pulling my t-shirt down over my love handles so people won’t see my knickers while walking up the stairs. Let’s not even talk about having to bend over. Which I have to do multiple times a day. Let’s just say the security guards watching the camera feeds have gotten a hell of a show from me. My lab coat has become a necessity. It covers up my crack without me having to worry about it.
Next Monday, before class, I’m going to the scrub store to get bigger scrubs. I never thought I would have to do that. Ever. EVER.
When it gets to the point where your SCRUBS, the easiest, most flexible item of clothing (besides sweat pants) ever invented, won’t stay up? You’ve got problems.
I’ve known women who have gone through entire pregnancies without even having to go up one size.
I don’t even have pregnancy as an excuse. Even though I might look it some days, I am definitely NOT pregnant.
(Speaking of which… Ladies, you know how when you reach a certain age and every time you say you’re sick to your stomach, someone asks if you’re pregnant? The other day I said I had a head cold and someone asked me that. Since when is a blocked nose and itchy throat a symptom of pregnancy? I’m guessing I looked pregnant and that was their “polite” way of asking.)
There are so many things I could blame this weight gain on. The stress of school. The headache medicine I’m taking. The fact that between full-time school and full-time work I just don’t have time to exercise. But those are all just excuses. And bad ones at that.
Yes, school does stress me out. So maybe the headache medicine causes dry mouth and the only thing that seems to help is drinking gallons of root beer every day. Of course I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day to go to work, go to school AND exercise or worry about eating right. The only new excuse for my weight gain is the medicine. I went to school and worked last semester while I was training for a half marathon. Running helped relieve my stress. It gave me energy. It made me want to wake up and go to the fitness center BEFORE I had to be at work at 7am. Running is what made me pack my lunch every day because I didn’t want to waste all of my hard work by eating something fried from the cafeteria. Running is what made me want to take Pilates. Pilates strengthened my core, gave me definition in my arms I hadn’t seen since high school, and made me more flexible.
But constantly pulling up scrub pants that have an elastic waistband at work and unbuttoning my “fat” jeans while sitting in class has opened my eyes. I’m not getting any younger. That cholesterol number isn’t getting any lower. I don’t have the metabolism of a 17-year old anymore. I’ve got to start taking care of myself. I’m only about one and a half pounds away from the most I’ve ever weighed in my life. And that highest weight? Not even a pregnancy weight. It’s from pure laziness. That laziness is going to catch up with me if I’m not careful. It even has the potential to kill. I have too many risk factors in myself and my family history to be complacent.
So this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to buy ONLY two pairs of larger scrubs. I’m going to pack my lunch and take it to work AND school. I’m going to eat as many fruits and vegetables as I can stuff into my face and reduce the amount of processed food I eat. I’m going to RUN. Outside when it’s not too cold or gross and on the treadmill when it’s too dark or rainy. I’m going to commit to exercising for forty minutes a day at least three days a week. When my finances are in a better place I WILL start going to Pilates again. I will NOT make my buffalo wings for football Sundays. I WILL eat a balanced meal three times a day with healthy snacks in between. I will NOT count calories, points, grams of fat or anything that will make me want to quit. I will STAY AWAY from the junk food in the break room at work. I WILL NOT SET A GOAL WEIGHT. I WILL base my weight loss on how my clothes fit and how I feel about the me I see in the mirror.
It won’t be easy. Change never is. And because I’m a realist, I won’t start this until after Thanksgiving.
I’ll just make sure I have my comfortable stretchy pants with me in New York.