I'm trying to keep my business, my triplets, and my waistline under control. I excel at one of those, fail at another one of those, and one is a work in progress. Which is which is day dependant.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Like A Supermodel

Voted Yet?

I think I'm going to change my name to Tyra...or maybe Heidi...or possibly Cindy - because this past weekend, I was channelling my inner supermodel. Firstly, my friend 007 asked me if I wanted to go shopping with her. Those who know me best know that I would much rather put jalapeno-dipped hot pokers in my eyes than willingly go shopping. However, as this is all part of the "make me a supermodel" thing, I readily agreed. In fact after she mentioned it, I was the one who called her to organise it.

Once we got to the mall, I was totally into it - grabbing stuff off racks, happily cackling at how terrible some of it looked, smiling at how good some of it looked, and so on. I was a woman on a mission. I desperately needed a new pair of jeans, since the pair I have (read: live in) were a bit, shall we say, MC Hammer-esque. I'm proud to report that I was able to buy a pair of jeans which not only were on mega sale ($24 instead of $100!) but I bought a pair which is a full size smaller, and yet still kinda needs a belt. I couldn't go one MORE size smaller because that would mean uncomfortable, and uncomfortable clothes are against my religion. To prove to myself that I really am smaller, I tried on about half a dozen pairs of pants, and yup, I definitely needed the smaller size. YAY ME. We kept on shopping, and hours later we had bags o' stuff and were exhausted and starving. We went out to grab a snack - a supermodelish snack - of coffee and a shared antipasto platter.

Old me would have had the platter (at 530pm) and then gone home and eaten a full dinner...because, you know, a snack is not an actual MEAL. New me felt full after the snack, realised that nobody was forcing me to have dinner, and resolved to have (if and only if I was hungry) a snack at about 830pm. No shit, people, it worked. I did feel a bit peckish later that night, so I had a bowl of cereal (Raisin Bran, for those wondering.) I had to repress the urge to dance around the house singing, "I won! I won! La la la la la la!!" It actually surprised me, just how powerful I felt about it all. Not only did I feel great about the smaller jeans, I also felt great because I had willingly shopped (without suffering a stroke, seizure, mental episode or other shopping-induced medical episode), AND on top of all that I was able to mindfully enjoy every bite of our snack and not worry, for one second, about the meal ahead. I think this is truly progress.

On Sunday the trio and DH went to a football game, leaving me behind to do such joyous tasks as cleaning out my car. Sad to say, but I could have fed a small European country on the amount of food scraps I found in my car. Most of it being the detritus of small children, but some of it my own. I think my car has been suffering poor gas mileage because of all the crap in it, weighing it down! A single dirty sock, 3 kids' books, 2 headbands, 1 bottle of water, the lid of a plastic box, several sheets of scribbled paper, a bit of string, 2 nectarine pips, a stack of tapes (yes, really. My car has a tape player), a small bath towel, one sweater....you get the idea.

After that experience I headed to the supermarket, and here is where I reveal my true supermodel self. Because I was by myself, I felt no need to dress up for the experience. So I found myself wearing the following (very fetching) outfit:

- Pair of tall Ugg boots
- Clean grey sweatpants
- Close-fitting long sleeved black t-shirt
- Black zip-up sweatshirt
- Headband

So I did the shopping, and because the place was totally packed, I had time to peruse the trashy mags as I waited my turn in line. You know what? I swear every actress, supermodel, wanna-be, and musician in that mag was not only wearing the same thing, but DOING the same thing. Okay, so they're doing it in LA, and they're shopping at Gelson's (read: world's most expensive supermarket) ...but there I was, feeling like a supermodel over my new-found confidence, and LOOKING like one too.

I don't think you can get much better than that.*

* I am conveniently ignoring the fact that while they were all dressed the same as me, they were wearing sweats in a size 2, and mine are considerably bigger than that.

1 comment:

Ellen said...

Congrats on the size smaller! Way to go!!