A funeral was held in my closet this weekend. I spent my Sunday figuring out which garments no longer fit properly, and to my dismay, half of my wardrobe landed in the "too fat to wear" pile. I tried on every pair of jeans I own. About three of them give me an acceptable muffin-top. By acceptable, I mean I can somewhat cover it with a baggy top without showing the world my best troll doll impression. The other 10 pairs were in the "Costco-sized muffin top" category that no amount of fabric can conceal.
Alas, I lit candles and said a prayer for the garments that had to be shoved to the deep recesses of my closet, hoping that they would be safe from moths until the day they could graduate to the acceptable muffin-top pile. The upside is, I won't have to spend much on a Halloween costume. I can just wear my tightest pair of jeans, a belly shirt, and tape some blueberries to my belly and go as a Costco bakery item.
I recently removed all forms of physical activity from my facebook profile, being as I am such a danger to myself that any sort of movement is considered risky. But the real nail in the coffin was the new addition to my facebook interests: sweatpants. Running, yoga, hiking, all swapped for the one interest/activity that I can safely partake in.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but hip injuries will force couch potato-itis on you.
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