Where's Jillian?

When Confessions of a Curvy Girl was born, the main idea behind it was three very different women sharing their thoughts on body image, nutrition, and the endless list of issues that the female gender can go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and…..oh, you get my drift.

Recently, I was blatantly reminded of the origins of Curvy Girl when I went to try on some shorts.  You know, summer is arriving here in New England (oh gosh, so we hope) and I decided I could use a new pair of shorts or two.

Bad.  Bad.  Bad.  Bad idea.

The first pair of shorts got hung up around my hips.  Yikes.  Okay, so this particular brand runs small.  I quickly discard it to the “no thank you, I will pass” hook in the dressing room.  I try to convince myself I did not really like the color anyway.

Second pair of shorts.  Whoa.  These are the ugliest pair of shorts I have ever seen in my life.  *Toss* on the discard pile.

Third pair of shorts move up my thighs and around my buttocks.  I get excited as I may have found a pair to fit my er, um, eh, curvy figure.  As I move my hands together to hook the waist band of the canvas shorts, I start to break out into a hot sweat.  Did someone turn the thermostat up or do the fluorescent lights just emit a radiant amount of heat after five minutes in the dressing room?  Holy mother…..the waist band closed, however, the ensuing muffin top, okay……..the flabalanche that ensued and came rolling up and over the ridge of sewn fabric was enough to make me shudder with horror.  I rescued myself from the dangers of that natural disaster by removing the Dockers in 2.2 milliseconds.  Survival training at its best.

Shorts 3.  Rebecca 0.

The anxiety started to build.  I checked the labels of all three previously discarded shorts – had I erred and simply picked up the wrong size?  Um, no.  Wow.  How could they NOT fit?

I knew I had gained a little bit of weight this winter.  I had no idea it was flabalanche worthy.  I proceeded to go out and look for the next pair because I just do not give up.  (And NO….the idea of getting the next size up was not even an option….no way, no how, absolutely not going to happen).

In my search for shorts, my husband decides to interject and assist.  No, honey, those are granny shorts.  Let me remind you I am only 39 years of age.  Elastic waistbands, although they may fit, are unacceptable and unallowable in my wardrobe.  Nooooo, honey, those are “juniors” shorts and have a 3”  inseam.  Unless you can stand camel toe and attack of the inner thigh in that adorable pair of hot pink shorts, then please put them back on the rack.  No, honey, I wear athletic shorts a lot…..like a lot a lot, so please, I would like a “real” pair of shorts.

I almost started to cry. 

What happened to me?  How did I get this way again?  I work out regularly.  I eat healthy 80 percent of the time.  The pressure in my chest started to mount and the tears were about to bubble over…in public.

My husband senses my momentary weakness and inquires within.  As I explain to him my frustration, he gently says, “Well, the weight has a way of sneaking on.”

Busted.  Confirmation that my fear of gaining weight over the winter was indeed just validated by my sweet husband.  Goddammit.

I started a new workout called “Insanity” the very next day.  Yes, I did.

I started a strict monitoring of my caloric intake, reducing the number low and I promptly started punishing myself for the recent weight gain.

I KNOW what to do.  I do.  I really do.  I was very successful two years ago in taking off weight and was at my peak fitness in a very long time.

I KNOW what sets me off.  I really do.  I go in spurts with meal planning, advance food preparation, and diversions for when stress kicks in.

I KNOW what exercise I love.  I really do.  I love to run.  I love cross fit type workouts.  I love to hike.  I love to bike.  I do not love to swim but I appreciate the alternative workout it gives me.

So what is my problem?

I do not know.  However, I do know that I will pick up the momentum and work hard.  Again.  The hundredth time since marriage and kids and work and life.  Perseverance.  It is one of my greatest traits. 

In the meantime, does anyone know Jillian Michaels?  I could use some time with her.