by KATE FRIEDRICKS
There are some things I stopped wearing when my belly stopped being flat. Tight dresses, for one. I used to have a skintight gray knit dress that I thought was the hottest thing in the world. I gave it away when I gained weight.
I hit my heaviest weight ever (again) back in November and I’m still there. Which kinda surprised me the last time I weighed myself. I thought I’d slip back. I thought I’d return to normal. Y’know, to my real body.
I think this might be normal, guys.
And the good news is, there’s a chance I’m curvy now! At least a little. I think I might be. Even my boobs are contributing, in the gradual, half-hearted manner in which I used to do my laundry after my mom reminded me ten times.
I didn’t know until I put on this incredibly tight dress covered in rabbits. And then it turned out that I am a (potential?) bombshell. It was like BAM BAM BAM!
BOOBS BELLY BUTT!
My first thought, which came out high and squeaky with shock, was “Wait– really? Nice!”
This is all wrong.
I am not supposed to like being at my heaviest weight. I am supposed to want to shed those pounds ASAP!! Girl, get some self control! I am supposed to be panicking. I am supposed to be dreading summer and calculating how many hours per day I should spend on the treadmill, starting NOW, right after I eat this chocolate croissant and its adorable twin and their slightly smaller cousin who would’ve been lonely otherwise. I am supposed to feel disappointed in myself. I am supposed to have failed.
But this curvy body feels like a friggin’ celebration.
“Wait for it,” I told my husband, pulling the rabbit dress on in the bedroom while he tested his bloodsugar (diabetes: it always has to get in on the action) in the kitchen.
“Whoa,” he said, when I came out. “Wow. Your body is amazing. Wow.” (The fact that Bear is really articulate makes this an even bigger compliment.)
I’m drunk on it. Thank you, mirror! Thank you, bagels! Thank you, poor willpower!