So. It's New Years Eve and I don't do resolutions, like ever, but today when I was getting dressed at noon, something awful happened...something truly terrible...and it forced me take a long, hard look in the mirror. What I saw in my own reflection made me take stock of my entire life, my choices, my habits, my behaviors, my desires for the future. It made me ask myself deep philosophical questions about my own existence.
I stood there for a long time, stunned, confronted with a reality I wasn't sure I could handle, but that I certainly couldn't deny.
I gazed from this angle and that, squinting my eyes, bringing the truth into focus – and I was desperate to convince myself that I couldn't possibly be seeing what I was seeing...it just couldn't be true... but the mirror does not lie, my friends.
I suppose I already knew the truth, even before I faced it. I heard the noise. I felt the breeze. Moments before, as I pulled on my jeans, freshly washed and snug fitting, I was aware of the distinct “POP” and the jarring “RiiiiiiP”. I was cognizant of an unusual rush of cool air where no draft belongs.
The mirror only confirmed what, in my heart, I already knew...
Let that sink in for a minute... I... SPLIT...MY...PANTS. …As in, the strain of holding my ass inside of my jeans became too great, and they just gave way. They broke like a denim dam, letting their contents spill freely into the world.
I was completely exposed.
I mean, like, literally and figuratively exposed. Obviously, I was exposed to the harsh elements of winter by jeans that could no longer carry an unbearable load. But I was also exposed as a person of little discipline, an over-indulger, a glutton, an excuse maker, a woman who in the feasting month of December may have falsely claimed a solid 15 days of insatiable PMS hunger and declared Holiday Parties fair game for non-stop noshing.
Scholars may disagree, but I think that if you split your jeans on New Years Eve it's practically a sign from God that change is necessary.
Just the other day, I was commiserating with a friend about the little layer of fluff I've managed to add between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I said to her, “You know, self-control is a fruit of the Spirit.” and we shared a guilty laugh and then I ate a cheesecake.
So today, when MY PANTS BURST OPEN, I feel like maybe it was a teeny tiny bit of the wrath of God, saying, “I will not be mocked.”
In fear and trembling, and with sincere repentance, I did the only thing I could think of; I texted my hero/friend/DietBet buddy, Roo!
A few months ago, Roo and I invited our communities to join us in a fun little bet to shed a few pounds and together we all lost 4,300lbs (!!!) and we split a $23,000 pot (!!!). So fun!
Oh. And the best part is that at the end of the DietBet, MY FREAKING PANTS FIT!!!!
So here we go again – Roo and I are hosting the Adios 2014, Sup 2015 Dietbet – Add $35 to the pot and join us for fun and encouragement and as we practice the art of Self-Control. (This just accidentally on purpose turned into a sponsored post.)
So, today, for the first time in a very long time I'm making a New Years Resolution: In 2015, I resolve to have a butt that fits in my pants.... but mostly, to build a character of self-control.