Yesterday, a local female newscaster and her cameraman came over to interview me. Yeah, that’s all fine and dandy and we’ll talk about that a different day because I have something WAY more important to discuss.
This newscaster. She walks into my house wearing this gorgeous suit and these really great shoes. She’s statuesque and really pretty. And to make matters worse…super freaking skinny. 6 months post-pregnancy. So UNFAIR!! I’m looking like an oompa loompa next to her and so thankful that our interview is taking place while sitting down on separate couches.
The whole time she is at my house, I’m giving her the once over, probably much like some guy checking out a girl at the bar minus the wanna have sex part, while thinking wistfully to myself how lucky she is. Tall. Skinny. And she can wear a skirt suit with no panty hose. I hope I didn’t stare too much and I’m REALLY hoping I didn’t sneer but it wouldn’t have been that evil eye sneer, just the “sigh, why can’t that be me” type look. Anyways, I’m coming back as someone like her in my next life, cool job included.
It made me miss the once upon a time that ended about two years ago, back when I could confidently just throw “something” on. Anything hanging in my closet. I could just walk in and pick out any shirt and a matching pair of pants and without any fuss at all, wear them.
Perfection, or so I assumed. Not much thought ever went into it. Because it all looked cute. Even on me. I didn’t even really have to try things on before I bought them. Oh, the good old days.
I was thin…never really tall. That was something I could live with though. I’m tall enough.
It’s all changed. My thyroid has made sure of it. And I haven’t been able to do much about it, as far as rescheduling the endocrinologist appointment considering how busy these last few weeks have been. School is winding down and there is something for the kids at least 3 times a week. I can’t get radiated and miss anything. The kids would be so upset, resent it and then one day, kill me while I’m sleeping, crying with each thrust of the knife about what a horribly selfish mother I am. We couldn’t have that!
It takes me ages to pick something out. To just be able to walk out of my house and feel comfortable in what I’m wearing could turn into an hour long fiasco and a huge mess on my bedroom floor. Which, I never clean up. Because that mess is the pile of clothes that I’ll never wear again anyways so why bother putting them away. My bedroom is starting to look like it did when I lived at home with my parents.
I have to make sure my tush is covered. And whatever I’m wearing hits “just right”.
I end up wearing the same outfit in different colors. I find a shirt that fits the way I want it to, I buy it in a few different colors. Same with bottoms.
It’s getting so depressing, especially now that summer is here. I can’t have a false sense of thin security while I hide under bulky sweaters and loose pants. I have to wear things like short sleeves and capris that accentuate the negative. Oh woe is me.
I’m considering grabbing a cozy blanket and pillow and hibernating in a nice cool cave during the summer and resurfacing during the winter where I can layer and bundle and pretend that everyone thinks it’s the clothes, not me. Besides, during the summer, the caves will have vacancies so it’s probably a good time to check in.
I’ll tell you what the interview was about and when you will be able to see it at a later date. In the meantime, I’m going to sulk.