Ok, so I don’t fit into my old pants anymore. I am two inches wider around the hips now and have added three inches to my waist. Pregnancy has a tendency of doing that to you. All this while I have been lying to myself that, come summer, I will somehow, through sheer magic, become a sylph again. I have obstinately refused to buy new jeans, I saw the old ones as motivation. Until today.
What prompted this sudden change of heart? I scanned my husband’s face real hard last night as I was parading myself in front of him complaining about how fat I am. For the first time ever, he did not deny it. He looked deep into my eyes, swallowed and kept quiet. Somehow, that didn’t stop his hands from groping my plump parts. So to hell with all those tight pants, which I had no choice but to button only half way up, cleverly hiding the rest under my blouse. It’s getting warmer now and I am running out of tricks. I know, I know, there is one thing I still haven’t tried: cut back on those chocolate bars. But hey, I’m not suicidal! And neither is he. You don’t want to mess with a person’s antidepressants, do you? 🙂 ‘Cause what’s a girl’s life without chocolate?… Or pizza?
“Aber, Frau Sepi, das ist so ungesund!”, my inner voice reprimands me. Oh, wait, that isn’t my inner voice at all. That is the voice of my obstetrician’s nurse. 🙂 I wonder what happened to her. Was she fired, did she quit? Anyway, I got along much better with her replacement. She would simply say: “Ach was, das Leben muss doch schmecken!” , and laugh.
I agree. At least once in a while, life has to taste good. And be fun. Which is why I’d rather romp and prance outdoors in my brand-new comfortable jeans than diet obsessively.
I sometimes think the weight women put on as the years go by is nothing but the weight of their own guilty feelings…