Getting to the bottom of my weight gain
Now to be honest, this hasn’t been a sudden thing. I didn’t wake up, look in the mirror and BOOM I suddenly have a bag of potatoes strapped to my bum. No sadly, I have had warning signals but just stupidly chose to ignore them. First there was the “I work so hard so yes, waiter please hand me my 5th bowl of pasta and have my apple pie and ice cream ready so I can have quick dinner”. Then it was “Finally I’ve made it out of work and to the gym, but since I’m so tired I’m going to do 5 mins on the treadmill then retire to the spa. Surely the jets in the spa provide my flesh with enough movement to constitute a work out”. Then it descended to, “Oh its [insert moderate weather description]? Well I can’t go outside in that sort of weather and exercise. I might get wet/burnt/struck by lightning”. Plus there was the fact that my skirts all were riding up to be two inches higher to accommodate my expanding hips, so much so that the female intern group decided to ask me very seriously what was considered appropriate skirt length given I wore “pretty short dresses”.
But finally there was the the bikini I ordered online. When it arrived, I took the bikini out of its packaging and looked at the size of the bottoms and thought “Oh man! Those bottoms are way too big for me, now I’m going to have to go through all the trouble of online returns to get a smaller size”, only when I when I tried them on they were a perfectly snug fit. An absolutely perfect fit. The top however, despite being the smallest size was way too big (pretty sure the aim of this bikini was to insult me in as many ways as possible).
But whilst one response to this finding would be to get into shape, I’ve decided to embrace my amazingly well proportioned womanly body, small boobs large hips and all. I’m conscious of it but not at all going to go out of my way to accommodate “exercise”. Especially if there’s a pasta/dessert buffet available for dinner. As if! Maybe its just my new found sense of independence since starting in such a demanding job, or maybe its just my excessive listening to the Britney version of ‘My prerogative’. Either way, I really have no intention of changing. Skirt suits are way more empowering anyway.
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