Let's Talk About Six, Baby

Let's talk about you and me. Okay, just me. Let's talk about ME.

"Your ass looks small." Hubby said.
"You're still the same size." I retorted.
He was looking at my tush when he said that, but I can't help getting in a jab whenever I can (at the Ass not in).



Can it be? That my rear caboose is smaller?
Yep. I'm working on shrinking my rump (roast) and belly (flop).
I've used the excuse I just had a baby for my flabbiness. After a year and a month, I can't use that excuse anymore.
A few weeks ago, I stopped consuming sugar laced products on a daily basis to soothe my soul. I've lessened my intake of starches (not the ironing kind). I was always a walker and I'm continuing to walk at least 2 miles every day. I started doing yoga again. Photos of my legs around my neck and/or doing pigeon pose will be posted shortly; that is, after my body is limber enough to first touch my toes. AND, I've started dancing with Critter. Every day, we put on the radio, he plays on the floor while his mother is Gettin Jiggy Wit It until she breaks out into a sweat and is panting from exhaustion.



Have I lost any weight? I don't know. I don't own a scale. I'm gauging it with clothes. Before, I got Preggo, I was wearing a size 2 (don't hate me cause I was skinny). After baby, I was wearing a size (I'm not telling). Now, I'm wearing a size (I'm still not telling and it isn't a size (2, 4 and 6) I have in my closet.

When I get dressed in the morning, I only need to open the sliding closet door 3" and reach in and grab one of 4 pants that fit me. The other day, I flung the door all the way and from the depths of my closet, I pulled out a size 6 cargo pants. I shimmed my way into them. They fit around the legs. I pulled them over my keister, zipped and buttoned them. THEY FIT!!!!! Okay, they were a little snug around the waste but I figured as the day wore on, they'd loosen up.

Critter and I went out for most of the day, I wish I can report that the size 6 pants stretched a little, but the truth is, they got tighter and tighter with every ticking hour. By days end I felt like an over stuffed sausage ready to burst from it's skin. Every time I took a step, I felt like another seam was going to pop. I didn't bend down for anything. If I dropped something, oh well, it was gone forever. When I walked, I barely lifted my legs in fear of hearing riiiiip. I shuffled home and as soon as I unbuttoned them my stomached sighed in relief. I peeled them off and discovered the button made in imprint on my belly (no photos available for your amusement). Maybe, those kids are onto something with sagging. I'm going to start wearing my pants under my badunkadunk and on the ground.