Grannie Panties

So last week my cousin called and told me that the Gap was having an undergarment sale, a really good one. This got me excited as I could use some new panties. We rushed right up at lunch and found that all the underwear's were on sale for .97. Thats right folks ninety seven cents. Whoah man. I bought somewhere near 17 pairs. At the register I held up this one pair and I asked my cousin and the sales girl if they looked like they would be granny panties. They both replied no way. So I get them home and decide that since I'm a little iffy about them I will make them my one time of the month panties.

This is what I got stuck with, or at least something very similar

Well my time came yesterday so I pull out my new period panties and put one leg in and put the other leg in and pull them right up to my nose. Okay they didn't really go that high they really went about two inches above my belly button. WHAT. What on earth do I do with these things? So I come up with the only logical solution. I roll them down. Thats right folks I rolled. So now I'm walking around with my rolled up panties still sticking out of the back of my pants because I'm pretty sure it isn't possible to roll them down far enough to make normal size panties out of them. I feel like a complete dork here people. Oh but wait it gets better. My pants are too big this morning so I have them rolled up also.

Okay lets recap. My underwear are rolled up my waistband is rolled up, my stomach has rolls...I suck.

Weighing In

I don't understand our worlds obsession with being thin. Growing up my mother was crazy about my weight. Ha I say was like she isn't still just as obsessed. My mom bought me my first bottle of diet pills when I was 15. I loved it. I weighed about 115 pounds and I was convinced I was gross and full of fat. I was a cheerleader, I went to boxing at night and right after school I would go to the gym for about 2 hours. I couldn't work out that much now if I tried. Later after I became immune to my first brand of diet pills and I had moved on to my second I learned about puking. That was much easier and I had learned to do it so that most people didn't know. My best friend and my cousin knew and they were not happy but there wasn't much they could do. A few years later my junior year my friend and I tried taking laxatives once but that sure didn't work. At the end of high school I was a size 3-5 and I was so frustrated that I wasn't a size 1.

Fast forward to now. I moved out, quit kicking my ass at the gym and learned how to eat regularly. It was amazing how quick I gained weight and even more amazing how much I didn't seem to care. The same is not true for the rest of the world though. I had super skinny friends around me claiming to be to fat when all I could see was skin and bones. I had family telling me my ass was getting big and wondering why I had let myself go. People started giving me little hints like bringing me a salad and questioning me every time I ate something questionable like Taco Bell or some ice cream. For a long time I didn't let it get to me but after having Brandon I was very self conscious. I went on a diet limiting my calories to 1500 and the doctor told me that was unsafe because I was breast feeding. So I got a membership to the gym only I never seem to be able to make it there more then once a week. Now every day I'm hearing from my mom "did you go to the gym today?", "How many times did you work out this week?" All I feel is that I'm not quite good enough. I've always felt like my mom loved me more the skinnier I was. I was her little trophy. Look how cute my daughter is. Drives me crazy.

What started this whole blog was yesterday. I went 30 days with out eating chocolate (okay 21 because of my birthday but still) and my mom never once noticed I hadn't eaten sweets. Yesterday I started my period and I felt like shit. I decided to go grab some taco bell and some chocolate. When I was at the store they had those big candy bars on sale for a buck and i figured why not get one, have some at work and then bring it home for the rest of the week. My mom walks in the office and says to me "why do you need so much candy?" I was shocked. I was like why does it matter. I'm on my period why can't I have some? She's like well why pay for a gym if you are just going to eat chocolate? I was furious. I'm so sick of this. I don't understand why it matters how I look now. I got a membership at a gym to help my heart not to look like a high school girl. I don't care how I look. I love food. I consider myself a chef and I have a motto, "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A SKINNY CHEF." I don't mind that I don't look the way I used to or that I don't fit in the little jeans any more. So this is what I just don't get. Why is it okay for you to call me fat? I never once looked at my mom and told her that she was fat. I've never commented on her clothes or her hair like she does to me. I've never done that to the people who do this to me. I wonder how those people would feel if just once I said how fat they were. If once I said that they should do something with their hair because they look like crap. Maybe I should tell the next person who wants to criticize my weight that they need a nose job or something like that. Maybe then they will understand every single day how it feels to be me. Why can't people just accept that some people are just happy being happy. I have a husband who is amazing, a beautiful son, two houses, a great job and so on and I did it all as a fat ass. But you know what I'm happy. When I diet and I don't eat I become a huge jerk. I love food. Food makes me happy. I love to cook it and experiment with it and try new things. So leave me alone. If you see me walking down the street leave me alone. Let me be fat. Let me enjoy my family and my food and my jiggly butt. Just remember we all have insecurities and pointing out mine may make you feel better but I promise someday someone will call you on yours and you will see how it feels to be me. I'm not going to be compassionate either. I'm just going to sit back and laugh.

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