So hubby and I were going out last Saturday night. Saturday morning, I decided I had nothing appropriate to wear. As in NOTHING. We rarely venture out at night, let alone in (nearly) Winter. I had an hour up my sleeve between having friends over & taking the middle child to a birthday party. I walked into Westfield full of hope and was ready to tackle some speed shopping. I literally went into EVERY farking shop in the damn centre. I ended up back at the old faithful Country Road & spent too much time looking at striped tees. Put the stripes down Ami & back away. I tried on a few things. Nothing was right, so I left & wondered if I had some ‘dressy boots’ I’d feel better. Ventured into DJs and was overwhelmed with boots and people, took a deep breath and left.
Meanwhile I was doing what every gal does, I was madly messaging my BFFs. They were both so kindly throwing their wardrobes at me! I kept thinking I wish I had the time to go over & raid their wardrobes.
With no outfit plan hanging over my head, I took Ben to his party and tried to forget about my clothing dilemma for 2.5 hours. After the cake had been cut, and party bags handed out, we raced home, I threw Benny out at the bottom of the driveway and headed to Myer. I was going to find some boots & throw an outfit together at home.
Nothing grabbed me so I headed for the clothes. I grabbed a few dresses and went into change rooms. I tried them on. And then I cried. I sat in the Myer change rooms and cried. I cried because I was tired. I cried because nothing felt or looked right. I cried because over the past year I have put on 10kg. I cried because I actually feel really shitty about myself. I was out of energy and I was out of time.
It then dawned on me that one of my BFFs houses was between my place and mums who has the best antique persian rugs she got online. Emergency message to mum to collect some clothes on her way over to look after the kids.
I got out of the shower and held my breath. Dear god please let something fit me. And it did. I wanted to cry relieved happy tears, but I already make up on so I kept my shit together.
We ventured out, I felt pretty good and was comfortable. Downed a quick couple of Moscato’s and was feeling much better.
But it really dawned on me how important it is to feel good about yourself. My wardrobe has morphed 100% into a ‘mummy wardrobe’. And why shouldn’t it, I am after all a full time mum. But along the way I have completely lost myself. The weight has crept on, and it needs to bugger off. I’m an emotional eater… and the last 12-15 months have certainly been full of some overwhelming emotions.
No one but myself can kick my butt into gear. I get the polite comments, oh but you look lovely, there’s no way you’ve put on 10kg. Well meaning and lovely. But it’s how I feel in myself. Most of, ok all, my clothes are tight. It’s disheartening and frustrating.
I’ve started at least 4 times this year on a ‘weightloss journey’ (ugh hate that term!). And who knows if I’ll stick to it this time. Only time will tell.