it started with five pounds.
it was the winter holiday season, full of good company and even better food. so what if you got a little soft over the season? everyone did.
but then february rolled around, and you can’t really dismiss the extra ten pounds on your waistline as “winter weight” anymore, now can you?
by march, you’re stuck in your bedroom in front of a pile of clothes, each one tighter than the last. you couldnt button the first four pairs of jeans you tried on, and the fifth pair wouldn’t even go up your thighs and butt. the sixth pair you manage to button, after 10 long minutes of struggling, and you sit down to catch your breath and all of the sudden—
the button is halfway across the room, and your face is burning in a mix of arousal and embarrassment.
your shirts fit a little better than the jeans, at least. most of your closet was made up of oversized clothes from before the holidays.
except now, those “oversized” shirts you had are a little too snug to be fully comfortable.
you brush off your family’s comments about cutting back on sugar, laugh away your friends offers of hitting the gym with you.
it’s just a couple pounds, right?
but that night you home, unbuttoning your pants when you walk in the door because when did they get that tight? they were fine this morning.
you go into your bathroom and pull out that old scale you stopped looking at back in october, after the first pound hit near halloween.
you step on it, and ignore the way you have to suck in a lot more to see the scales number. you almost stumble off when you see the blinking number.
it’s april, and you’ve gained gained 50 pounds.
its just not winter weight anymore, is it? you’re just fat.
and a part of you cant wait till next holiday season, cant wait to see the number blinking back at you by next january.
