Illustration of a pair of pants with the thighs highly rubbing against each other with smiles and arms that hug each other.

I wiggle when I walk

The truth is here. I'm jiggling. No more denial.

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I do! I actually wiggle when I walk.

I can feel the weight around my middle jostle and move with each step. Ack! I had deluded myself into believing I’d only gained a little bit of weight, but I can’t continue to believe that now! The truth is here. I’m jiggling. No more denial.

Also, as I stand straight and walk, I can feel rolls…ROLLS…beneath my bra, rubbing against each other. I’m horrified by the sensation.

My thighs don’t just meet they are constantly rubbing against each other like hormonal teenagers. The jean material is giving way in the crotch. It is as if it just can’t take anymore.

My thighs don’t just meet they are constantly rubbing against each other like hormonal teenagers.

It is true that my face has always been a bit wide, but now I have chubbier cheeks and what looks like jowls that flappy skin hanging down on either side of the chin as if gravity only works on cheeks, not chins. I’m too young for jowls!

The upside – my breasts look like a Victoria’s Secret ad. Seriously, I’ve got cleavage. Plus, my butt is definitely, “all about that bass.”

I just wish my stomach wasn’t in the race to push away from my body.

My metabolism decided to shift gears to slow and everything has changed.

I used to be able to out eat my uncle who is three times my size and built like a linebacker. Now, I’m concerned about whether or not I should avoid potato chips and develop a long-term relationship with celery. I look at meals with skepticism, “You look yummy so you will probably head straight for my middle.”

The crazy thing is I was warned. While sitting at the Cheesecake Factory eating a deep fried mac and cheese ball, the woman across the table from me warned me as she watched me dig in.

“You won’t be able to eat that way forever,” she said.

She was right.

I’d hoped for a few more years but here I am watching the digits on the weight scale blink higher.

Should weight matter in the grand scheme of things? No.

But change is hard. The best I can do is laugh at myself and face the truth because pretending it is not happening is no longer an option.

Darn.

 

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Honey Madison