Wow. What an article.

Ashley from Turquoise Ribbons sent that link out on Twitter today… I read the article with my eyebrows up to my hairline in pure shock. This is the sort of thing you might read on an angry person’s rant blog, not on anything resembling a professional website. Well, you shouldn’t read it anywhere because it’s crap, but you know what I mean.

Salma Hayek has a beer gut, which she tries to hide by wearing flowing dresses. She fools no one with this trickery. This lady is fat.

Yes, America Ferrera plays a dowdy, awkward character on TV’s Ugly Betty [...] Hollywood is about being extraordinary, not ordinary. It’s crazy that she has become a poster child for “curvy” women. She basically gives women an excuse to be fat.

Read it and barf. Those women are beautiful.

It’s something of a coincidence that this article was shared with me today because after yet another morning of trying on pants and flinging them away for being too tight around the girl parts,  I was frustrated beyond belief with the fact that I am yet again gaining poundage where I need it least. (Come ON, boobs, do your part here!)

For the record, I know I’m not fat. I know I’m not ugly. I know that a lot of girls would love to have my body. I know a lot of boys who would like to have a grab at it. Ten or so pounds after we broke up, Tim still says I’m his hottest ex-girlfriend. But pants are expensive and I am sick of gaining weight because it costs money, and I don’t have much to spare.

I like to think that I’m pretty positive about my body image. When I say I have a big booty it’s not because I think I’m a chunk, it’s because proportionally, I do. I carry my extra weight south of the hips and north of the knees, and it’s exaggerated by my genetic predisposition to have a sway back. My sister has it too. We get it from grandma. It’s no big deal, it’s just how we are built and frankly, I don’t mind having a little extra cushion back there. It makes stadium bleachers a little more comfortable, and it looks good in the right jeans. Boys like it and so do I. It’s my one womanly curve. (Again, boobs, quit slacking – these fries are for YOU!)

I don’t weigh myself and I don’t (yet) own a scale. It’s never really mattered to me because my weight hasn’t changed much in recent years. I’ve been underweight most of my life and now that I have achieved a healthy weight, it’s not something on my worry radar. But I’ve gained SOMETHING recently, I don’t know how much, and the one reason it really bugs me is because none of my pants fit. I just bought all new pants when I gained my healthy weight a couple of years ago (thank you, Depo-Provera) and now none of them are any good to me. Even my lazy-day slacker jeans are squishing me a bit.

Is it sick that I’m thinking about diet and exercise not because I’m overweight or unhealthy but because I just want my J. Crew cords and my Paper Denim & Cloth Franklyns with the patch pockets to fit again?

So now I will become one of those girls who clings to her “skinny jeans” and puts them away on a high shelf, unwilling to part with them because someday, some wonderful day, she will lose ten pounds and fit in them once more. That depresses me. I will say it flat out and underline it to emphasize my honesty: my weight gain depresses me. It depresses me like my credit card statements and bank account and 401(k) balances depress me.

I went to the nice resale store the other day to drop off some other no-longer-fitting stuff (I physically could not put the jeans in the car) and I looked at pants. They weren’t too expensive, they were in good shape and by decent brands, but I didn’t even try on a single pair. I was sad just looking at them, sad to the point where I gave up completely and figured that if I couldn’t wear MY pants, I wouldn’t wear ANY pants! I will wear dresses! And if/when I do lose weight around the boo-tay, my dresses will still fit. So I bought an adorable green Banana Republic dress for $6.00 to make myself feel better.

I don’t feel better yet. I am cute in my new dress with my sweater-knit tights and kicky citron flats, but I want my pants back.

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**No, I am not pregnant. Last I checked, babies make the bulge in the front. But I peed on the stick anyway, and all is well down there.

**Dress pants are another story. I can’t smoosh myself into dress pants. Tight-around-the-booty can sometimes work with jeans, but NEVER in the office. Those must all be replaced immediately.