Tim and I had a date night last night. We went to one of our favorite local restaurants,Lapellah, which never disappoints. Also? We used a Groupon, and BOO YAH... xoxo the Groupons.
I wore a new dress. The dress? Looked hot. In the try-on room. Lots of cleavage, but not the slutty kind, the nice kind.
My new dress, minus my stomach
The problem with looking hot in the try-on room? Uh, yeah, I didn't get to see how the dress looks sitting down. Until I was home and dressed and ready for my date and sitting down. And then? Hello, upper stomachical region, where did you come from?
I am a small person. I hover somewhere between 5'1" and 5'2". It's called petite, shut up. Of course, in my current 44-year-old incarnation, I am not small anywhere but the height department. I need to lose about 15 pounds to get back into my *healthy BMI* range.
My body "problem" zone has always been the hips/low-stomach/saddlebags region. Frankly, is that not everyone's problem region? After having my first two children via C-section, I became resigned to the fact that I would have a low belly pooch evermore. I convinced myself that part of it was the doctor's fault. He had obviously damaged my stomach muscles because that pooch? It was not going anywhere. Do all the crunches you want sister, the pooch is here to stay.
The thing about the pooch, though, is that it is a pretty universal dilemma. Just pick up an issue of "Redbook" or "Good Housekeeping" and there will be at least one article on how to "dress for your body type," and in that article, there will be tips to hide your pooch. Pleated pants, long tops that accentuate the waist, blah blah blah.
But this upper stomachical bump? This is a relatively new phenomenon for me. And frankly? I'm not digging it.
So effective immediately, I am officially back on the STOP EATING ALL THAT SHIT bandwagon. And also the GET OFF YOUR LAZY ASS bandwagon. I've got the all clear for "full activity" post-surgery, so this weekend I. Am. Going. For. A. Run. For the first time since... wait for it... December? Maybe even November?
And so it has been written, thus it must be done.
I am also THROWING AWAY the remaining Tagalongs. You read that right. I am throwing them away. In the garbage can. And not only am I putting them in the garbage can, I am burying them in the bottom of the garbage can to avoid any potential (and regretful) garbage can retrieval of said Tagalongs.
So in summary: Date night? Fun. Upper stomachical region? Fucked up. Shopping in the Junior's Department? Never again.