
Those who know me, know already that I'm an optimist: I firmly and strongly believe that there is a good side or aspect (silver lining) to everything; sometimes it's a challenge to find it, but it is always there.
Recently, I posted about weight gain: sometime during the past year or so, I have put on 14 lbs; in spite of expanding by pretty much 2 dress sizes so that only one pair of my jeans still fits, I still count as healthy and not overweight. The jeans that fit me are the ones DH bought me for doing cellar work when I returned to paid employment 5 months after having Destructo Boy (I weighed 147 lbs at the end of the pregnancy), and I weighed about 132 lbs or so. I dropped it all and was back to my pre-pregnancy weight of 115 lbs within 6 weeks: smoking again and stress do serve a purpose.
Thing is, that time I didn't know if the weight gain was because I stopped smoking or from being pregnant (both happened at the same time). I've stopped smoking again (see my counter in my sidebar) and am definitely not pregnant, plus the weight gain happened before I stopped smoking. So why do I feel like a walrus ?

I think it may be because I have never had to consider my weight before: I ate what I wanted, when I wanted, and stayed the same; bar the indigestion, of course. And of course, pregnancy changes the shape of your body irretrievably, but I'd adjusted to that eventually. Age also changes your body - and more importantly, your metabolism: this is what I'm ascribing it to, since I am physically active and take regular exercise (brisk walks, 40 minutes a day minimum).
Now I am on a quest for acceptance. My own acceptance of this change. It's going to be permanent, that I know, since I am definitely not high maintenance enough (and also physically a coward when it comes to pain and doctors) to demand my DH sells his soul or body - whichever would bring most financial reward - to pay for liposuction; and oh-soooo-certainly I am WAY too lazy to go the gym. Even if I could find it, and then work out what the equipment in there is for and how it works.
DH, bless his little cotton socks, has been great: he has tottered, wobbled and teetered on that super-sensitive and spiderweb-thin fine line and managed to retain not only his balance, but also to remain unstabbed.
But to return to my original point: the silver lining. For the only time in my life apart from pregnancy, I'm now a D cup.
