Week 38 of 52 – Adjustable Waistbands and Adjusting to Reality.

This week marks my twentieth year high school reunion.   I’ve looked forward to the event, even assisted with the planning.  

Then yesterday it  happened – I realized that in five days, I would be seeing people I hadn’t seen in twenty years and I had NOTHING. TO. WEAR.  Yes, I was shouting.

For months, ok over a year now, I’ve been residing in this narrow post-baby corner of my wardrobe.  Holding out hope I would pop down to my preferred size any day now.  I don’t diet so I knew it would take longer to reach my goal and I’d been pretty OK with that – until now.

It’s as if I was suddenly transformed to that worried freshman where I thought everyone was looking at me.  And really critiquing what I wore.

Panic was followed by anger – my husband was the unfortunate target.  His crime? Being silent after my lament of weight gain and lack of fashion choices.  My accusation?  “MEN, you just don’t understand, you wear your hidden adjustable waistbands and don’t have to give a darn if you gain weight.”  His defense?  “I knew nothing I would say would be the right thing to say.”

Once I calmed down, we strategized a bit:

Financially - Similar to the grocery budget, we can only cut the clothing budget so much.  We probably shouldn't have cut this category as much as we did while getting out of debt so now we will have to increase it to make up the difference.  I consignment and thrift shop for the boys but hadn’t done it lately for myself, so I need to make some time.

Rationally – Truly, has my wardrobe worn to rags overnight?  No.  Does absolutely nothing fit?  No.  Does everything need replacing today? No.   

Relationally – Walt talked me off my ledge, and I apologized for my undeserved outburst.  He even offered to give me part of his hunting and fishing fund for clothes.  I refused, but he still earned points.

At the end of the day, the reason for wardrobe woes is a beautiful little boy we were told we couldn’t have.  So Give Thanks and Get a Grip I Must. 

And as Walt said, remember it’s a season.  In his words, “I’ve accepted the reality that I will be fat for six to nine more months (his estimation of when Samuel will sleep consistently through the night), and until then, I’m going to say to heck with it and stretch my elastic waist bands to their capacity.”  Men...

For my 52-week photography project, I present an injured child. 

George is now healing from his first bloody skinned knee.  Now before you judge me ;-), I promise I'd first held him and dried up his tears.   Once he was calm, I said, let's take a picture of your skinned knee.  He agreed and when I pulled out the camera, the waterworks began, he cried all over again.