Weight

Been thinking about this a lot lately (see earlier entry). It's funny; when I was a kid, I was skinny. Not just thin, either. We all were. Took after Dad's side of the family. Actually, I shouldn't sad we "all" were. Ellen wasn't. She took after Mom's side. I never thought she was fat, just pleasantly huggable and less angular than the rest of us.

I could count all my ribs all the way through high school. High school graduation weight was 119. Pre-pregnancy weight ten years later: 129.

Then reality set in...

...and, now, tennish years later, I weigh more than when I was 9 months pregnant!!

I have so thrown away the scale in our house! ;-) And now I prefer the British measuring system. My target weight--according to the insurance charts--is 10 stone. There. Doesn't that sound much better? (...not that I'm actually AT my target weight...)

HOWEVER. Most of the time I don't care what I weigh. It's only when my clothes don't "look right" on me, or I have to buy the next size up that I get depressed. Not depressed enough to actively diet, usually! [Oh, and swimsuit-time sucks too, but I don't know a woman over 25 who doesn't hate swimsuits.]

This goes along with the rest of my 'philosophy' of girliness. If you know me at all, you probably know that clothes/makeup/hair is not my "thing." (Well, hair is, kinda....ahem...only cuz I know how many hairclips and barrettes I own). Not only don't I care what you're wearing, I don't really care what I'm wearing as long as it's comfy. So please don't get insulted if I don't notice your new designer stuff. I'm pretty clueless. My nieces and a very good friend have been giving me ongoing remedial lessons. I don't think anything is sticking very well...but at least I don't wear polyester or muumuus! And bless them for trying.

Pop me in jeans and a tshirt, with cloggy kind of shoes and I'm a happy little camper. Luckily, this outfit comes in every size....