I am so Hot!! Oh shit...I'm so not.

Do you think you're good looking? Hot? Slim? In shape?

I think most people have a realistic view of how they present to the world - other than the spandex wonders who continually stuff themselves in clothing three sizes too small.

I have a healthy view of myself - I'm not overweight, but I could stand to tone up. I'm small up top, but I have hips, and a butt. I'm still holding it together at 34, but I'm aware that the women in my family are pretty much all pears. I'm not in the fruitbowl yet though. Basically, to sum it up, I feel good when I walk around.

Or I did. Until yesterday.

I met a friend for lunch, and after we ate we went to Kohl's where the day before I saw some lay-around-the-house shorts on sale for $6.99. Comfy jersey material. Yes, they were in the Juniors section, but whatever, it's 7 bucks! I went over and pulled out two pair, size medium. They had some skirts next to the shorts, same material, same price - just the type of thing you would throw over a bathing suit. I did pull one of those up over my pants, size medium, and it fit, so off I went.

I got home and went upstairs to put away a pile of laundry that been sitting, ignored, in the basket, on the bedroom floor. I dumped out my Kohl's purchases on the bed and took off my pants to try on the shorts. They fit snug, but comfy, and I decided to keep one pair on for the rest of the day. I went about my business putting away the other clothes, and at point I turned around and caught my reflection in the dresser mirror. The window behind me was letting in that late afternoon sun, and it was catching my legs in an unflattering way. As I stood I suddenly saw a vision of myself that didn't really match the one in my rosy mind. I walked to the dresser and grabbed a mirror, then walked back to the foot of the bed, turned my back to the dresser, and held the hand mirror up to grab a view of my rear.

Holy fuck.

I'm a fatass.

The shorts, my new comfy shorts, were sucked to my ass like static hair to a scarf. I'm a thong-girl unless I'm home, and I had switched into some comfy full-butt panties. If I didn't remember switching I was quickly reminded by the stark outline popping through the shorts, and the rest of my ass coming out underneath. The shorts themselves, not yet stretched out (yes, it's an excuse), were barely under my ass cheeks, and sprouting out from the shorts were these thick thighs I suddenly realized were my legs.

Despair hit me like a fully iced snowball.

I put the mirror down, did some squats to loosen up the shorts, yanked them lower on my waist, re-adjusted the full-butt panties, pulled my tank top down, and picked up the mirror again.

No change.

I let the mirror drop to the floor, and turned around. The front was no better than the back, and a cloud of pissy came over my face as I flashed back to my happy self prancing around the Maine beach just a week ago.

"Something has to change," I whispered to myself.

Now I understand what people mean when they describe how it's harder to get the weight off as you age. I let myself mourn my early 20's for about a minute.

I gained 12 pounds from when our plane touched down in St. Thomas last December. I need to get those off before we return.

I'm now counting calories. I'm not happy about it. Think how pissed I'll be in ten years when some doctor tells me to cut the salt out.

At that point it's all over.