Organizing Fail
I don’t know why I thought sorting through my ENTIRE collection of clothes from EVERY storage space in the house would be a fun, easy project to do while the baby was napping, but here’s the result:
So much for that cute pirate/Wild Things/sailboat themed nursery. Now it’s like Target and Old Navy threw up all over the floor. It’s taken me a week to get to this point and there’s still two piles of unsorted clothes in the guest room.
The worst part is the box I’ve labeled “Try On”. Who am I kidding? None of it is going to fit and keeping it in the closet hoping it will fit “soon” is like hoping a unicorn will fly out of the sky and stomp all over E’s laptop so he can never play WoW again. So 85% of my wardrobe is going into boxes marked “Too Small Summer” and “Too Small Winter”. I should probably label another box “Stuff You Will Never Fit In Again And Would Make You Look Like A Hooker Even If It Did”. Or maybe “College Clothes” for short.
Even though I’ve been trying to eat better and have started my post-natal workout DVD (Boot camp! Squat thrusts! People with impossibly rock hard abs!) my scale says I have gained four pounds from my post-delivery low. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that low. I had really hoped breastfeeding combined with drinking lots of water and a few walks around the block would be enough to get the weight loss going, but it looks like I’ll be in my yoga pants for a little longer than planned. Although a pair of slightly larger yoga pants might be helpful since I don’t think you’re supposed to have to do yoga to get them on. If I get really desperate I’m going to start stalking the other women I see pushing strollers around town in hopes that I can find I walking buddy.
I lost all my baby weight (all 14 pounds of it) within a week of giving birth. I’ve since gone on to lose 20 more pounds, from a combination of hormone shift addressing an untreated medical problem and a medication regime addressing said medical problem.
What I’m trying to say is, all my pants are too big and I have to buy new ones and it sucks and people make fun of me because I have a “good” problem but dude, I still can’t afford to buy five new pair of pants.
If you lived near me I’d love to go walking with you. Or if I lived near you. Too bad neither of us owns a private jet, although if I could afford a private jet I think I’d hire someone to walk for me. Or something. I’m not sure how that would work, actually.