That’s how I feel right now.
I should be at my mom’s uncle’s house, celebrating with our huge family. Over 60 people gather each year to share Christmas. Why aren’t I there, you ask? Am I sick? Well, not physically. But I am sick and tired of being so fat that I can’t find anything to wear.
I bought a new sweater to wear for Christmas, but stupid me, I didn’t try it on. You see, I had ordered the exact same sweater online, only in a different color. So when I went into the store and found it in purple, I didn’t think I would need to try it on. I was sure it would fit.
I had everything all ready — I washed my black pants a few days ago, and they were wrinkle-free and ready to go. Or so I thought. I went to get dressed and found the pants were super tight — not good. Number 1, I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable all night, and Number 2, I didn’t want to looked like a stuffed sausage, especially around relatives I only see once a year. Yes, I’ve gained quite a bit of weight since last year, and I know that losing 8.5lbs is great and all, but I really wanted to hide the weight gain, if possible. Well, I thought to myself, the sweater should hang just the right way as to cover the tightness of the pants. Nope. This sweater, in the exact same size as the one I ordered online, mind you, was too tight. It was as if it was a size (at least) too small. Ugh!
I tried to figure out something else I could wear, but nothing looked good. Or Christmas-y enough. I felt terrible, was getting stressed out, and wanted to call the whole thing off.
So I did. I called my mom and told her about the situation, and she was very supportive, even suggesting I put on jeans and the grey sweater, which would’ve probably been just fine. Except that I really don’t like wearing jeans on Christmas day and I was so depressed by the fact of these clothes looking so badly on me that I was in no mood to deal with the entire group of family member.
I felt like a huge cow. I still do, although at least now I’m comfy in my sweats, sitting on the couch as I write this.
I feel so pathetic, home alone on Christmas day. But in a way, I feel so much better here by myself than I would facing a room full of people feeling so fat and disgusting.
Today is just one of those really bad days. I know that I’m not disgusting, and I think on most days I look very well put together, or at the very least, presentable. Today just wasn’t one of my “pretty days.”
I’ll tell you one thing, this gives me ample motivation to make it to the gym tomorrow morning!
Bella on the Beach 