big lady pants

Saturday started out so good.

I ran. I ate honey glazed carrot soup at one of my favorite restaurants. I was having a good hair day. I hung out with Hubby. I took pictures of my sister's family. And ice.

And then I went to Target, and it all unraveled.

Because I had to try on pants.

Which meant that I was alone. In a locked cubicle. With nothing but harsh lighting and the truth.

(Just an aside... Why do they make the lighting in dressing rooms so harsh? You'd think they'd want you to think you look at good as possible. Like, just before I was at Target, I'd been at Starbucks. And in the Starbucks bathroom, I really thought to myself - and I'm not even kidding - that I looked okay. Then I got to the Target dressing room and was proven horribly wrong. Maybe the dressing room making people should get together with the Starbucks bathroom people. Anyway...)

You might have heard me weeping.

It was not pretty.

Perhaps if I had not eaten my way though January, or at least moved a little bit more in January in between the eating, it wouldn't have been so bad.

But I ate. And I did not move. And it is bad. Worse than it's been in quite awhile.

(And I know why I'm eating. It's not a mystery to me. I knew deep down even before the Glamour magazine epiphany I had on Tuesday. {I hate it when my epiphanies come from Glamour magazine.} It has to do with unhappiness and situations that I can't change right now. But still.)

I did wind up buying two pairs of pants. I mean, I can't not have pants. And they are cute pants. But I kind of don't like them, just on principle.

******

I was supposed to run a 5k today. I was registered and everything.

I woke up this morning and decided not to go.

I knew the course was hilly. I knew I wasn't ready for hilly.

I knew that it would take me a long time.

And I knew I couldn't handle humiliation today. Especially after the dressing room trauma.

So I set the ipod at Prince and went on my own run.

And Prince? He helped me.

I truly believe that Prince likes me just how I am. All those references to big ol' hips and big ol' booties can't be a coincidence.

Maybe I really, really don't like me right now.

But Prince? I think he's good with it.

And for an hours worth of run, I was actually okay with it, too.