February is the shortest month day-wise, but it's always felt like the longest month. It takes forever to get through those last winter days, knowing spring is right around the corner. Now, don't get me wrong - I like winter (for the most part), but this one has been especially dreary. A lot of rain, almost no snow. If there's no snow, what's the point of winter??
But then - the perfect cure arrived in the mail.
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue.
Okay - to whom do I complain?
There's nothing quite like seeing these absolutely perfect women on suny beaches, wearing pretty much nothing to make me feel fab about being in an oversize turtleneck sweater, with my hair all staticked out to here, like Gene Wilder's in Young Frankenstein, as I shuffle around in my fuzzy blue slippers. Yep - I am one sexy beeyotch, eh?
Ugh. Again, to whom do I complain about this?
About four years ago, I was in the best shape of my life. I was hitting the gym five days a week. I'd whittled myself to a size two. We took a cruise in the summer of '04 and, not only did I actually wear a bikini for the first time ever. But I was comfortable in it.
Then, that fall, my husband and I decided we wanted to have another baby.
And that was all she wrote.
Now, I didn't gain a lot of weight when I was pregnant with my son. But I no longer had the time or the energy to drag myself to the gym five days a week. Especially since I also had deadlines to consider and new projects in the pipeline, and the day-to-day stuff with two kids.
Long ago, I accepted that I will never be 5'8". My father is 5'10" on a good day and my mom is 5'1". I stopped growing when I hit 5'4" (although, in the late 80s, I could easily tack on another four inches with my hair) and that's okay. The short gene is powerful and runs rampant in my family.
But, there I was this morning, drying off from my shower, and there's that perfect alien staring up from the cover of the SI. How depressing is that? And what the hell was my other half thinking, leaving it there???? And could someone tell me, is it Gisele like Ja-zel, or is it Gisele like Gee-se-le? And is that even her on the cover? They all kind of look the same to me.
So I know I'll probably never fit into thost size two jeans again (I finally tossed them when we moved. How's that for acceptance?), and who knows if I'll ever see the inside of the gym again (which I actually kind of miss, because not only did I like working out, I loved having those two hours completely to myself), and I know Glamour and Cosmo try to assure us that of the two, men would choose the real woman over the fantasy woman every time. Of course, if that's the case, why not put a real person on that cover? Imagine that.
The best part about the whole thing is the little disclaimer thingie the editors of SI put in the magazine - If you do not wish to receive the swimsuit issue, contact... Um, okay. How do I do that when the swimsuit one came with the regular issue?
Sigh. Well, at least I know Gisele (or whoever the hell it is on that bloody cover) will be gone in the recycling next week. It's a small comfort, but a comfort just the same.
And spring is right around the corner. =)
Happy Valentine's Day!