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Thursday, July 9, 2015

I'm celebrating.

Two years ago, I gave birth to Penelope.  After my body recovered from the birth, I was fifteen pounds heavier than I was when I got married.  For the last two years, I've been slowly, gently trying to get myself back to my wedding weight.

This is the fifth and last time I will go through this process.  I will never again be able to call extra weight "baby weight".  In the future it will have to be called soda weight or chocolate and marshmallow weight or salt and vinegar chip weight.

When we were on our trip, we were hiking daily and sharing meals at restaurants to save money.  I lost those last two pounds somewhere between the Devil's Tower and the Grand Canyon.

I've been telling myself for awhile that when I hit my mark, I would pull out my wedding dress that was lovingly smashed at the bottom of my hope chest.  I would put it on for the first time in twelve years and celebrate.

D'arcy came up to help me focus the camera.  She asked why I was in my dress, and I told her.  She said, "Well, you are down to your wedding weight, but you still have stretch marks underneath there."

I'm celebrating those, too.

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