I should have known

I spent most of the weekend working on the garden (sorry no pics) including watering it. It was great and the garden looks pretty decent. The tomatoes are getting big and the boys are anxious to taste the first fruits of my labor. The basil is beautiful and I am dreaming of pesto. On Sunday, the heavens opened up and we got drenched with an astounding 3+" of water in just a couple of hours. It figures. I have restarted the tank. I am not enjoying it quite as much this time around, but mostly I think it is just project fatigue coupled with the uncertainty of how I am going to handle some of the shaping. I modified the pattern to better match my gauge and so far it seems okay. I am planning on keeping everything pretty much the same, but because I dropped 12 stitches from both the front and back, the neck line shaping will have to be tweaked in order to work. The shawl is growing, slowly but it is growing. I have come to the conclusion that I actually need to pick it up and work on it for it to grow. Shocking, I know.

This past weekend, I did something that was long overdue. I went shopping for clothes. By myself. At a new mall. I spent a ton of time in one of the anchor stores and actually bought 2 pair of pants. I was thrilled. See, in February, I was a size 12 going on 14. Then I started Weight Watchers. I have since dropped 25 pounds and am a size 4. The best part about the shopping trip is that I found a store that carries pants that fit me. Narrow waist and breeding hips. I bought 2 pairs and returned the first 2. I was soooooo thrilled.

Now, I just need to work on keeping it off. I refuse to go back to being frumpy. On the other hand, I don't want to be the mom who tries too hard. I think I am balancing it, but as the extent of Caleb's fashion sense is that he would prefer to wear sweats 365 days a year, he doesn't really say much. (Yes, he would like to wear them when it is 95 degrees out. Yep, it drives me batty to see him all flushed insisting that he is cold. I want to know who out there thought 3 year olds are easier than 2 year olds. Filthy rotten liar.)

The oddest part about it all is how slowly my self-image changes. No matter how heavy I was, I always pictured myself as a size 8. Now, I look in the mirror and all I see is the cellulite under the clothes. I like eating too much to ever end up with an eating disorder, but I have been thinking a lot about what it means that I still picture myself heavier than I really am. Is this a product of the media and our fascination with girl/women with long lean legs and not a spec of body fat? Or is a normal psychological phenomenon and in a few months my self-image and my actual body will be in closer alignment?