I glanced at the clock. “Good,” I thought to myself. “I still have 20 minutes left.” I try on item after item – each one finding themselves rejected and tossed onto my bed. In no time, the pile has gotten bigger, and I have made no progress.
Nothing fits. Nothing.
I stare at the mirror in both sadness and disgust. Thirty minutes have gone by and I have nothing to wear. A closet full of things – and here I am empty handed. I feel ugly, fat and most of all, I feel that I’m a failure. I feel like I’ve regressed to my past self and I am once again, round and unhealthy.
The pile is still there. Messy, and in the way. It’s a reminder of everything that went wrong with my health. Of course, nothing fits. Why would it? What have I done to change it?
It didn’t matter that I had a baby. That was months ago. He’s almost a year now. What excuse did I have ?
I look in the mirror and wonder who the stranger is staring back at me. I look back at the pile with shame. Each piece seem to add to the disappointment.
Does it seem a little smaller? Could the changes really be making a difference? I stare at the mirror and wonder. How long before I see the old me again? One month down, but so many more to go.
The pile remains, I’m hoping not for much longer.