Earlier this week I was reading Big Boned by Meg Cabot, which is part of a mystery series about an ex-rock singer named Heather who is slightly overweight (aka big boned). In the book, Heather is at the home of a college student talking to the student’s mother who admits she doesn’t get her daughter because her daughter is not a size 8 like the mom and other sister. (Seriously.) And there all kinds of things wrong with that sort of outlook on life, but it also reminded me of my relationship with my mom.

When I was young, (and skinny), my mom would tell me I didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.

Now, I am not skinny, and my mom no longer makes the bird comment. She has other comments, and the comments COULD hurt, but I have never let them because I understand. Plus, sometimes her comments come back to bite her.

For instance, in December, I was talking to my mom on the phone. She mentioned she had received her Christmas present from my older sister, Kari. The conversation went something like this:

Mom: Kari must think I’m huge. She bought me size 20 pants, and they are just too big.

Linda: (I have no idea what I said, but I think I asked if she tried them on. Isn’t it convenient how I remember her words and not mine?)

Mom:  They are huge. Maybe they will fit you.

*Crickets*

Linda: (while laughing) They are huge, and so maybe they will fit me? What exactly are you trying to say, Mom?

Mom: I didn’t mean it like that.

Linda: Oh? How did you mean it? That I’m huge and you aren’t? That I’m bigger than you? That I am fat?

Mom: (changes subject)

Fast-forward a few days to the Denton family Christmas with my brother and his family, my family and my mom.

Linda: Mom, you look nice. I like that outfit.

Mom: It’s my Christmas present from Kari.

Linda: Oh? You mean those are the huge pants? The ones you’ll swim in, but they might fit me?
And then I precede to tell my brother all about my mom’s inappropriate comments while totally harassing my mom because the size 20 pants fit her. And we both have fun harassing her. Poor Mom.

And she totally deserves it because her and Kari do not have thunder thighs. I think they would be considered apple shaped when I am definitely a pear. They have very tiny legs, but I inherited much meatier legs. It is not fair. I wanted the skinny thighs, but I don’t have the varicose veins my mom has either, so I guess I will just have to deal with it.

Long before I started dieting, I monitored my weight by my clothing; more specifically how my clothing fit (or didn’t).

About a month ago, I had to throw away several pairs of jeans because they all had the same problem — the cloth in the inner thigh area had worn through so much that holes had started to form. For some of the jeans, it was just a small hole barely visible. On others, it was a gaping hole.

As a result, I inspected every pair of jeans I owned and several other pants as well. Almost all of them showed signs of wear in the inner thigh area from the continual rubbing of my thighs as I move throughout my day. Everything else about the jeans were in like-new condition, but the thigh areas were worn thin. I was forced to throw away almost every pair of jeans I owned.

The only pants that didn’t show wear in the thigh area were my fat pants — a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans that I had purchased at a deep discount. Even when I purchased the pants, they were a little big on me, but I couldn’t pass up the deal. Plus, they weren’t that big. They were my size but the “tall” version, which meant the longer than normal legs fit me differently than most of my jeans. At 5′7″, I’m at the lower end of the “tall” range.

The first time I wore the jeans, my husband commented on them. He didn’t like them because they made my butt look larger than it really is. The loose fit and poor butt display made these jeans become my work jeans. When I had to do something that required a lot of lower body movement, I would wear these jeans. They worked well while snowmobiling, any major cleaning and home improvement projects.

So many times I went to my dresser drawer and pulled out pants that no longer fit me, but these jeans always went on. They were my fall-back pair when nothing else was available. If I had a lazy day of hanging out at home, I pulled on these jeans. The loose fit may not have showcased my butt very well, but they were comfortable to wear. I never had to tug them up to cover my butt crack or worry about straining the seams if I bent down to pick something up off the floor.

Every time I wore the jeans, my husband mentioned how poorly they displayed my rear end. He didn’t like them at all, but I continued to wear them.

They were the jeans I grabbed when nothing else wanted to fit. These were the jeans I could pull on no matter how I felt or how bloated and fat I was that day.

Yesterday, I threw away my fat jeans.

It was a big move for me, and I wasn’t sure at first that I should do it. After throwing away so many pants last month, my clothing options are limited as it is. It is not an easy decision to toss a pair of jeans that are in good condition.

I wore the jeans yesterday. It was a hanging around the house day, and I pulled the jeans on because it didn’t matter what I looked like. The jeans, however, are now too big.

My hips have always been bigger than my waist by several inches. It means most of my pants are tight in the hip area and have a small gap at my waist. But yesterday, my fat pants were just too big. The waist band’s gap was huge. I could pull on the outer thigh area and pull the pants off despite them being fastened. It involved a little bit of a single hip wiggle to the right when the pants began to go over my larger hips, but it could be done without a lot of effort.

According to the scale, my weight loss effort is only 25 percent complete, but throwing away my fat pants is a major deal. So much so that I decided to take a photo to document my achievement to date:

According to the tag on the jeans, they are a size 20 and “classic fit.” I don’t see anything to indicate they were “tall” although there is a “inseam-r” on the label, but I have no idea what that means.
Yesterday, while wearing my fat pants, I went to a local store and tried on various pants. For the last six months, I have been wearing a size 20 jeans, but that is misleading. I had refused to buy jeans larger than a size 20, but at times, I couldn’t make a size 20 fit and size 22, after being used to my tight-fitting size 20, felt huge the few times I tried them on. I usually opted for the smaller, tighter size, but it was something I had to decide on a case by case basis.

Yesterday, in the dressing room, getting a full-length view of me in my fat pants is when I really decided it was time to get rid of them. I never want to fit into them again, and it is clear they no longer fit. It was time to let them go.

My results in the dressing room were mixed. I could fit into some size 18 jeans but not all. The cut and brand played a major part in the deciding factor. If the fit was relaxed or classic, size 18 fits. Anything else is iffy.

One thing I learned in the dressing room yesterday — pay close attention to the labels. I mistakenly picked up a pair of size 18 “misses” jeans, and I didn’t realize it until I went to try them on. I am not a “misses” by any means. I also need to avoid “juniors” labels. It just isn’t good for the ego.

Last night my husband asked me a couple of times where I had been yesterday afternoon. I told him I was shopping, but I didn’t try to explain why my shopping trip took so long despite bringing home just a few items. It’s hard to explain that I was size-shopping, which is sort of like window-shopping. There is no intent to actually buy anything, but you have to know where you stand in the changing world of women’s sizes.

I don’t tend to do resolutions, and I don’t really plan to change that this year. I do, however, like to do goals. Last year, I began the year with a goal to have lost at least 52 pounds by the end of the year although preferably I wanted to lose twice that amount (2 pounds a week).

That didn’t happen, but I did manage to lose 25 pounds in a year. Not shabby.

For 2008, I want to continue with my goals that I began last year, and I have a couple of new ones.

New goal 1: Spend time with family and be there with the family 100 percent instead of working while answering/talking to them.

New goal 2: Eat sooner in the day. Try to have dinner by 6 p.m. and eliminate eating after 6 p.m. most of the time.  This is part of my training/learning that I need to do. In the past, I always ate a late lunch (around 3-ish), and I would end up eating dinner around 7 or 8 p.m. It turns out my eating schedule was way off, and I need to change that.

Goal 2: Avoid fast food. I made this goal last year, and I improved my fast food eating, but I didn’t completely eliminate it. I had allowed myself fast food when the family was eating, and I vowed to just eat smarter and not eat everything. This happened most of the time. I do think there were a handful of times when, primarily due to convenience, I pulled into a fast food by myself and bought a meal. But even then, my choices tended to be smarter.  So this one was pretty successful, and I think I did OK.

Goal 3: Avoid pop. I had done this in 2005 with a lot more success (less than 5 pops all year). I wasn’t bad with this one in 2007, but I could have been a lot better.  I want to renew this vow. It’s a good thing this isn’t a resolution because I already had a small glass of pop today. It was sitting there, and it was simple. I am way too into simple drinks. I like the drink you can pop a top and gulp. I am not as thrilled with the drink that requires you get a glass, pour and eventually wash the glass. I do tend to drink water with dinner though.

And that’s it. I have other goals, but they aren’t related to this blog and/or I am not yet sure I am willing to go public with them.