A Size 2

This past weekend we got our shop on because of the tax free HOLIDAY. Isn't it a wonderful time of year? These days, I don't really shop for myself. I shop for my hubby and the baby OF COURSE but myself? Not so much. Why even bother? I almost feel like if I buy myself clothes, I'm committing to this size. AND I DO NOT want to commit to THIS size.

I spend a lot of time daydreaming of the day I finally hit my goal weight. In fact, I'm sure my friends are all sick. and. tired. of hearing all my weight complaints, stories, etc. But I can't help it. I'm on a mission and quite frankly, a little obsessed. And my goal weight? That number changes often. Do I want to be the size I was when I found out I was pregnant? Well, my husbands answer is a big fat NO. He doesn't want me to get that small ever again. He pointed out a photo of me where (in my little mind) I felt too fat. He said, "you look so beautiful there. please don't get skinnier than that". So, if I go along with that idea, I am about 9 lbs away from my goal weight and probably the weight I look best at.

So back to the point of this post. This past weekend we went shopping and although I didn't really shop for myself, Phillip picked out a dress for me. The problem? The largest size was... a size 2! I put it back and stated "I will never be a size two again. ever." to which my husband answered, " yes you will, I promise. And we're getting the dress." I was convinced to purchase the size two because maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to fit into it one day. And when that day comes? You better believe I'm gonna rock it.

The End.

(Oh and dont worry, I didn't pay the price the tag says. No way, no how.)