Tuesday, March 3, 2009

panic pants. like cranky pants but with, uh, panic.

The past couple of days have been a bit odd. I’ve been noticing that my pants are all getting too big – I only have a few pairs to start with, and my favourite jeans AND my favourite work pants are now big enough that I can take them on and off without undoing them. The butts are saggy and they’re all getting too long, because they’re sitting too low on my hips.

So this should be thrilling, right? Instead, every time I think about it, I get this small twinge of PANIC. Isn’t that totally weird?

I’ve been trying to figure out the reason for this. In the past (for the past, oh, 8 years), every time my pants stop fitting, it’s because I’ve GAINED weight. And this has happened quite a few times. So I think I’ve actually conditioned myself to view ‘pants not fitting’ to equal ‘bad’. I also think some part of me is secretly scared that smaller pants won’t actually fit – like I’ve lost weight but only in some weird time/space continuum that is my life, and that ‘in the real’ world (aka Old Navy) I’m still going to be the fat chick who can’t squeeze into the new pants.

I guess it might also be as simple as: I HATE BUYING NEW PANTS. Seriously, is there anything worse than pants-shopping? Ugh.


In other news, some friends of mine have signed up for this Booty Camp Fitness thing, and I think I might too. Yes, that’s right, I said BOOTY Camp not BOOT Camp. One part of me finds it kind of horrible, but I also kind of think I might like it because it will be the closest I ever get to having Jillian Michaels personally bossing me into shape. And I do think it will be a good workout and have more of a focus on toning muscles than straight-up fat-burning, which I like.