by Lu Ann
I hate to shop for clothes. Actually, I loathe shopping for clothes! For one thing, for my entire life it has been difficult to find clothes that fit me. To get the right size for one part of my body means that the other part will not fit. Pants that are just right in the waist are often too loose in the bum. Shirts that would fit perfectly around my bust won’t go on my heavy arms. If you’ve ever struggled with extra pounds, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
Unfortunately, I have to leave my home and face the world—and the classroom—every day, so that means making the yearly trek to the mall and scanning the racks in the clothing stores. It’s amazing how many truly ugly garments are made each year for women who wear larger sizes. Colors that are gauche, fabrics that enhance the bulges, and design cuts that fail to flatter the fuller figure fill the Women’s section of every store.
Knowing this to be what I’d find once I got there, I was off to the store anyway, prepared (hoping) to buy several new pair of slacks and a few tops that I could wear to both teach school and for book signings.
When it comes to sizing, I try not to care anymore. I learned from Clinton Kelly and Stacy London (What Not to Wear) that fit is more important than size, but it is hard to keep myself from caring when I look at those tags. Nevertheless, I found the clothes I wanted and brought them home.
I did give myself three pieces of incentive clothing—one top that I loved. Its bright colors made me smile, and it was one an incredible sale, so I decided I’d work on my arms until they fit. The others were two pairs of pants just one size too small. They fit in the leg, but the waistband was too tight to button comfortably. Those pants would provide my first goal.
I had already changed the way I was eating when I instigated the Food Mover, so I just continued along that plan, drinking water instead of soda or milk, eating a salad as a meal at least once every other day, and staying away from extra sweets, lie chocolate.
This week, those changes paid off. I am not wearing the pants that were a size too small. I’m simply "waisting" away, and it’s making me feel good about myself.
Oh, and one other good thing, my youngest son just showed me the bathroom scale—the one that says ERROR when I get weighed—doesn’t read a weight for him either. He gets gibberish when he steps on the thing. So maybe I am making more progress on the weight loss than I thought, and it’s not my fault the scale won’t tell me the great results.