Jean therapy.

Over the past few years whenever I have ranted a bit about the number on the scale (BUT OH MY GOD I'M AT THE GYM ALL THE TIME) I have so often heard, "Don't worry about the number on the scale.  How do your jeans fit?"  To which I always want to respond:

PRETTY F*&%ING HORRIBLE, THANKS.

I get that people are well-intentioned.  What they mean to point out is the fact that one's weight does not in fact matter as much one's measurements do because muscle weighs more than fat and blah blah blah.  But when your jeans STILL don't fit well, you should start to question your diet, right?  Orrrrr, nope, you look for more excuses.  I have relied for a while on the fact we CrossFit girls don't really wear jeans because they don't fit because we have big quads because OH MY GOD WE SQUAT SO MUCH.  Yes, that is true.  But you see, that should mean that once you find a pair that does fit your quads, they should be swimming around your waist.  Then, and only then, should one have a right to "blame" CrossFit for the lack of suitable jeans and thus resort to wearing only leggings every.single.day.

And then there is me.  Sure, my jeans are tight in the quads.  But they are also really tight in the waist. I have gone so far as to tell myself that the fabric has to stretch so much for my awesomely toned quads (<---sarcasm...I'm gonna blame fit quads for everything...) that the waist has lost some of its fabric in exchange.  Me likey that kinda voodoo magic reasoning.  But, yeah, this is how I look in jeans that really ought to fit me:

 [That line that you think is the underside of my boob?  Oh, that's just the underside of my boob.]

 [Wow.  Muffin top, anyone?]

Ok, so you might ask...why not just get a bigger size of jeans?  Stop beating yourself up and go get some damn new jeans.  But the thing is, these jeans ought to fit me.  They really ought to. And fitting into these jeans well is pretty much as lean as I ever want to get.  I don't want to be a stick figure.  I want to be me, minus about 10 pounds of stomach and hips.  And then I can wear these jeans.  So this is my true challenge and my true reward.  If I am successful in this challenge, my reward isn't a cupcake (ha! the irony!) or even a new pair of jeans.  It's THIS pair, worn proudly without Spanx and without feeling like I'm walking around in a damn sausage casing.

Until then, I'll keep rocking the leggings:

[Yes, the lighting makes it look like I am wearing a leotard over tights, which would be funny if it were true.]