A Letter of Apology to My Pants

Dear Pants,

I’m sorry I got your hopes up this morning. I know I set you up for disappointment when I laid you out last night, ready to wear to work on my first day back from spring break. And even though I tried you on this morning, only to discard you in a heap on my bedroom floor, please understand…

It’s not you; it’s me.

I had every intention of wearing you today. Really, I did. But when I tried you on, something inside me said, “No, you really shouldn’t. Just no.”

It was my gut. Not as in “I had a gut feeling I shouldn’t wear these,” like they were going to bring me bad luck or something. It was literally my gut that was hanging out over the top of you when I finally managed to get you buttoned.

I know that when I reached for another pair of pants in my closet, the ones that are not-so-affectionately known as my “fat pants,” you shed a little tear.

If it makes you feel better, so did I.

I’m not sure why I didn’t think I would gain a few pounds over spring break. It’s not like I worked out. Heck, I barely even walked. And then there was the food. I was bad. I was really bad. Like buy-a-large-container-of-mini-powdered-donuts-“for-the-kids”-and-then-proceed-to eat-the-majority-of-them-yourself bad. (If you dunk them in your coffee first, that washes away the calories, right?)

So even though I acknowledged that I was eating like I was gearing up for a long period of hibernation, a little part of me foolishly thought maybe my metabolism wouldn’t really notice.

Oh, I assure you, it most certainly did.

And it was pissed.

After all it has done for me these past months, how could I betray it so blatantly? I didn’t even try to hide the chocolate chips that I mixed in with my scoops of peanut butter. I did, however, try to imagine that I was really eating a bowl of fat-free Greek yogurt, but my metabolism wasn’t buying it.

So, pants, please know that although I threw you down in disgust this morning, it wasn’t because of anything you’d done. People often let out their anger on the ones they love the most.

And even though we have to break up for a bit, and during that time I will have to see other pants, I won’t forget you. Hopefully someday soon, with a little will power (and perhaps the mental picture of myself in a swimsuit), I’ll work things out on my end.

I hope we’re a perfect fit again soon.

Yours truly,

Paula

 

 

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