Seriously people.....whose idea was spandex?

So recently, my sweet hubby and I went on a vacation to sunny (as in Dante’s Inferno, 7 layers of Hell HOT) Orlando. It was as much relaxing as a networking gig for TJ. I slept in a lot more than he did, and I never really had to dress up in my “goin’ to meetin’” clothes like he did. Pajamas were completely appropriate for me.

We stayed at a resort that was so huge it could probably have housed all of Scotland. According to the map, there were 15 or so pools. They failed to mention that half of these are not constructed yet. Nothing like arm-wrestling a snotty 12- year old for a half broken lounge chair. I went out and purchased a new bathing suit for this vacation – my first one since college, actually. I graduated from college in 2001.

The horror of trying on a swimsuit is universal. No woman, anywhere likes doing it. Even the size 2 stick people that claim to be “overweight” hate it. Nobody wants to go in a dressing room after eating at Sbarro and stand 14 inches from a mirror reflecting every genetic abnormality possible in a few pieces of spandex. A potato sack would actually be more flattering on me. Either way I found one I somewhat liked, bought it and packed it for the trip.

I think there should be a second phase of swimsuit shopping – walking around in it wet, and in public. Just to make SURE you know what you’re getting yourself into. Who knew spandex could get clingier, but after splashing in a chlorine fountain, it does! And then you get to walk out of the pool and amble to your chair all while your spandex is clinging to you and creeping into places it shouldn’t be, and leaving “no room for imagination” as my mom would say. MORTIFYING! REALLY – who’s idea was this?!?

Fast forward to Sunday night when we get home. I pulled our scale out from the 6-inch dust bunnies guarding it under our bed, breathe in (somehow, I got in the habit of sucking in my stomach when I get on a scale and it doesn’t help, but it’s habit) and step on it. I then realized just how angry I can become in a meager 3 seconds. It doesn’t take long and I have a flashback to my first night at Weight Watchers in 2004 when – after stepping on their cattle scale - the kind old lady behind the desk covered her mouth and gasped, looked at me in disgust and said how “well” I carried my weight. That old lady part didn’t happen.

So I had my first (albeit 5th?) weigh in this morning to see if I can’t pull off another weight loss success story. No, don’t even ask what it was.

Hopefully you’ll be seeing less of me soon…