I will admit – I’m not in the best of shape. I don’t eat well and while I don’t necessarily consider the treadmill my nemesis anymore, it’s still a love/hate relationship.
But lately I’ve been really busy. So busy that (you may have noticed) even writing is taking a back burner. I’ve bought and wrapped all my Christmas presents, thrown a party and mostly cleaned the house for family that’s coming into town this weekend. So, I haven’t really had time to love/hate that treadmill very much lately. And I’ve been eating an inordinate amount of pizza.
Yesterday I wore a shirt that I haven’t worn in quite awhile, and it was literally popping off my body. Does not fit. Not even a little bit. Button downs often gape in the chest area – this is a problem that many women struggle with. But this one was gaping at the stomach level too, and I spent a lot of time bundled into my coat. The voice in my head is asking me why I’m so lazy that I got so fat.
That voice in my head is so mean sometimes.
So I finally got home late last night, after a long day at work trying to keep this shirt intact and then going out to dinner with some good friends without being able to zip home and change, I was pretty ready to burn this hateful shirt. Part of my mind was reminding me that your body is what it is and the shirt is a pretty arbitrary measurement, but I still wasn’t feeling great about myself at all.
I changed, and it was late enough to vote for complete comfort, and I suddenly realized why I’ve always loved my pajamas. My p.j.’s don’t judge me. To take it one step further, when I’m in my p.j.’s, I’m in places and with people who don’t judge me either.
They never say “You’ve gained a lot of weight lately, haven’t you!” or “Are you going out wearing that?” They say, “We love you, and even if you’re not feeling your best right now, we’re going to hug you anyway. Don’t worry, babe, we’ve got a drawstring.”
I wear my p.j.’s when I’m at home with my husband, staying with my family or on a weekend getaway with close girlfriends. None of these people look at me with scorn and derision. They don’t even seem to see the little rolls that are driving me crazy and instead comment on the cute reindeer print.
Could I stand to lose 30 pounds? Absolutely. I should always be striving to get better. But I also want to be completely comfortable and in love with myself the way I am. Because perfection is eternally elusive, and frankly quite boring.
And the mean voice does not make me feel good or inspire me to action. It inspires me to eat ice cream on the couch because now I’m bummed. But the pajamas say “It’s okay to step out and try something if you want to. You can do it! We’re with you.”
That voice in my head could take a lesson from p.j.’s.
I’ll see you all after the holidays.