The Bliss of Ignorance

No, no.

Not ignorance. Perhaps I meant the bliss of IGNORING my reality. No, I definitely can not plead ignorance if I am aware of my reality. Like if you drove by the Naked Cowboy. Could you ignore the man? No, he is a man in his banana hammock, skivvies with a guitar singing on a city street corner. Obvious would be an understatement and ignoring this spectacle would be impossible.

Because now I can not ignore the reality that none of my jeans fit.

Not in that "Oh, dang. These don't feel as comfortable as usual" kind of way.

Uh uh.

Enter in muffin top and the mad quest to find the little pregnancy extender, doo dad thingy that enables me to wear my jeans without having to blouse out my tummy.

Perhaps you are asking yourself how Jess ignored her reality. Well I would be just slap my knee happy to fess up for you because...well this is my first step in getting help...CONFESSION.

I ignored my reality by...

• Consuming everything conceivably edible with no accountability whatsoever.
• Enduring a 2 week period with confusing pregnancy tests (some negative, some positive). These ended up being false positives (evap lines) because I used blue dye, cheapo tests and I should know better since my infertility journey caused me to be an expert on all sticks requiring to be peed on. Pregnancy was negative but ate like it was positive and justified it for that growing life that needed all the empty carbs I took in for my own pleasure.
• Wore pregnancy jeans from 1st trimester of last pregnancy time frame to justify above eating spree. Figured if I was preggo I would jump in with both feet. Apparently, I needed a bib too.
• Wearing the same shirt and pants that were always roomier and washing them over and over. I just never noticed they began to get snug. But wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt 5 days a week will do that.
• Using coupons and BOGO deals at the grocery store to justify all the snacks I have crammed in my pantry. They are for the kids, I tell myself. So question: Why is it my poor kids never get a clue of their existence? Answer: Because I have hoovered them like a starving beast.
• Making easy meals because family flies in for a visit. Translation: Order pizza.
• Stacking boxes of clothes for charity onto my treadmill and telling myself that my lack of exercise will clothe a child in need somewhere.

There you have it. I have faced reality with all of you to hold myself accountable in my life of denial. But here's the thing. I am not looking to get back in my size 4 or 6 jeans. I think my belly will probably remain this nice little extra garment that I can tuck in like a shirt. Whatever. But as of a few weeks ago my goal was getting back into a size 8 because I was hovering between a 10 and a 12. NOW MY 12's are snug! UGH. I am ill just tapping it out on these keys but we keep it real, or KIR...(such a geek) at two shades. No reason not to.
But I am not sure what my plan is at this point. I guess I need to start running again. But I so don't want to. I feel weary to the bone. Not in a depressed way. More like a...who cares? And who wants to justify weight loss at this yummy time of year?
It is so funny because hubby has masters degree in exercise physiology. We used to both work at fitness club where we met. Yet both the will and the flesh are weak. Seriously, hubby and I are madly in love and how can a mom get stoked to exercise when she wears her children's meals, fluids, or art work on a daily basis? I also have no motivation when I see some baked good telling me how good it will taste with my morning coffee. Naughty little pastries.
Sigh.
I need to sign off at this point anyway. I need a snack.