Now that I am…not a size 6 any longer—and may not be until Jesus returns and gives me my new body—and my workout consists of pulling weeds and scooping out cat litter boxes, shopping for a swimsuit has reached the #3 spot on my list of high-stress items.
#1 being that we’ve run out of ice cream, and #2 that we’re down to only vanilla.
I’m not afraid of cellulite, fat, or age spots. I just don’t like to advertise them to the world at large. And prove that I am becoming one of the larger ones in that world.
So I torture myself in the dressing room with all manner of spandex-inspired creations that attempt to hide from the younger women what they have to look forward to when they hit the Searching for My Lost Hormone Years and want to eat everything with sugar or fat in the #1 spot on the ingredient list.
When I finally decide on a little—I use this word loosely—number that is so busy with sunflowers and hummingbirds that I hope will distract eyes from the flesh bulging out of it, I rush to the checkout counter and pay cash, so the checker doesn’t have time to see what size it is...
To be continued on Wednesday's post; please come back and discover how I manage to not embarrass myself when I wear my new purchase!
The lovely Karen Lange is interviewing me today on her blog, Write Now, and I'm giving away a copy of Two Scoops of Grace with Chuckles on Top--I'd be delighted if you'd join us!