Sunday, January 27, 2013
Warm and Fuzzy
No exaggeration, I have eight pairs of the same pants. They are all black, with a panel at the top that sucks in your muffin top. If I could find a way to wear them to the office, I would. When I was pregnant and bought my first pair of maternity jeans with a panel that came up over my belly, I fell in love with the concept. Sure, my stomach was bigger than ever, but the panel created such a smooth silhouette. This has given me an idea. What if we took the maternity jean system in the other direction? Instead of a panel designed to grow with your belly, there was a panel made of Spanx that sucked you in? I’m fairly certain this innovation would solve 90% of my fashion emergencies. I’m busting my sewing machine out this week and starting on the first prototype. Stay tuned…
I really need to be training for the marathon but all of my regular running partners have come down with a case of the babies. The gym gets so boring and I want to get some of this cold air into my lungs. My issues with not having a steady running partner are twofold:
1. There’s nobody to hold me accountable for hitting the trail.
2. When I run by myself, I spend the whole time obsessing over whether or not a man is going to jump out of the shadows and attack me, depleting all of the energy I need to complete the run.
In an effort to stay in the same size yoga pants, I have been skiing every weekend this winter. I am extremely cautious and make a lot of turns, which results in a killer leg workout. We have been having a lot of fun on the mountain this year. Several of our friends also have toddlers and ski, so we meet at the lift and the kids chase each other down the slopes with the Daddies right behind them holding a leash, snowplowing the whole way. Now THAT’S a killer leg workout!
After skiing, we usually meet up at someone’s condo and have dinner and drinks while the kids build forts and hang out. I have known most of these winter friends since middle school and when I look around at our kids playing together, it is mind blowing. The guy I sat behind in social studies is now a father of two and here we are, talking about mortgages and automobile safety ratings.
After deeming it too cold and windy to stay out any longer yesterday, I skied over to another friend’s condo to hang out. As I sat in a theater room and watched Transformers while eating Twizzlers and drinking beer (his condo is amazing), it struck me that nothing has really changed since the 7th grade—except for the beer part. His nickname for me is “fatbacks” because I routinely wear granny panties with my yoga pants, which apparently creates unsightly panty lines. I could care less. I refuse to go commando or wear a thong. Yesterday, when I got up out of my seat to use the restroom he yelled out, “Hey Fatbacks! Grab me a beer on your way back.”
It’s moments like this that keep me warm during these long winter months.