Admissions...A Few

I have something to admit, and it isn't pretty.

My size 8 jeans no longer fit. And the same goes for my size 8 dress and my size 8 black pants.

For some ungodly reason, I thought I had evolved past the days of outgrowing my clothing. I thought I had moved beyond the embarrassing (and potentially painful) moments of squeezing my stomach in order to zip my jeans. Or angling my face just so to avoid the double chin on camera. Or feeling my inner thighs bounce into each other when I walk naked in my apartment.

But, alas, it's true. I've gained weight. Fourteen pounds to be exact. The last time I weighed myself, I was hovering around 164. And since then, I've managed to eat half a batch of chocolate chip cookies and nearly a loaf of Nathan's delicious focaccia bread. Not to mention the chocolate chip pancakes I enjoyed this morning, smothered in syrup, or my coffee with cream with enough sugar to kill a diabetic. So, God only knows what my weight is right now.

Needless to say, I am not in anything close to diet mode right now. Nathan and I just moved into a brand new apartment in Syracuse, NY. Yup, you heard me right, I said Syracuse. Home of the snow, home of my alma mater, and home to a particularly obnoxious shade of orange that is plastered all throughout the city. Our apartment is completely empty, aside from a jumble of clothes and huge stacks of books.

The cats are going completely insane. Leo has decided, with a vengeance, that he hates the new apartment. So, he waits until 4am to wail as loudly as possible, while simultaneously attacking the air mattress. At night, we have been forced to lock him in the (big) closet--the only room in our apartment, besides the bathroom, with a door. During the day, he finds weird spots to hide (behind the fridge/ next to the litter box) and when you find him and plead with him to cheer up, he scowls at you. He's ready to trade his parents in, I can tell.

Fanny, my sweet yet clumsy cat, has taken to doing acrobatics in the middle of the night. She sprints across the entire apartment and then takes a running leap (roughly four and a half feet) onto the windowsill. Sometimes, she makes the jump and other times she crashes to the floor (usually on her head). Unlike her brother, she seems delighted with our empty, echoing apartment.

And Nathan and I? We're surviving. On the upside, I started my new job on Monday. I have to say it because I'm so damn proud. I am officially the Assistant Editor of CNY Woman, a magazine targeted towards woman in Central New York. We have our own place (no roommates!). Nathan has some great career prospects in management. And we're engaged to be married. We haven't set an official date yet, but we're thinking either a year from this coming May or a year from August.

On the downside, we are completely, flat-out broke, which means we're living on pasta, chicken, frozen vegetables, eggs, and whatever we can make with flour, sugar, baking soda, and yeast. We have no money for our two favorite vices--booze and cigarettes--which means that tensions are a (wee bit) high in the Katie/ Nathan household. We're also massively sleep deprived (thanks to Leo) and Nathan has begun criticizing my parenting skills. He insists that if I hadn't of coddled Leo, Leo wouldn't think he was a human, and wouldn't be having these temper tantrums in the middle of the night. I, on the other hand, believe that all Leo needs is some love and furniture to hide under and he'll be okay.

But then on the plus side, I'm in love, living with my favorite person in the whole world, who makes me chocolate chip pancakes before work.

So, I can tell that you're probably waiting for me to address this weight gain of 14 pounds. Well. I don't have much to say. I simply cannot diet right now. I can't afford it and I can't deal with any additional stress in my life. When things become more normal (i.e. we are not stressing about how to pay rent), I'll re-evaulate. But for the time being, it's not the most important part of my life. I still have to say that I haven't binged since last April--so that's nearly 8 months of being binge free. Pretty damn awesome, if I do say so myself.

But, one thing I am going to do is start walking to work. The walk is roughly 1.5 miles, so that means I'll be walking 3 miles a day. That's a good amount of exercise, and I think that it will help me maintain, as well as help me get back into shape.

Another goal that I want to work on is to STOP the FAT TALK. I hate that I've slipped back into calling myself names (disgusting/ hideous/ fat/ gross) and that needs to end. I wasn't any of those things when I weighed 240 pounds, and I'm certainly not now.

Do you struggle with "fat talk," and if so, how do you combat it?