Under Pressure (think David Bowie)

So. In less than two weeks I will be on a public beach in a (gulp) bathing suit. For all the world to see. This weekend I ate Bobby Flay green chile cheese burgers and cheesecake (and beer, and potatoes, and....FISH! I had healthy FISH on Friday!) Today, I ran. Tomorrow, I'm thinking I better run again.

"Run" is a stretch. It's definitely more than a shuffle, but far less than a run. One of Jamie's ATX running buddies told me to never, NEVER, use the term "jog". I can always hear him in the back of my head. Anyway, I ran the Academy loop today, it's 3.3 miles; I ran most of it. Not too bad. It was a gorgeous morning, nice breeze, and the Academy area has amazing views. Of the desert. And it's just so lovely to push one child, specifically the small child, in a top-notch Baby Jogger. But I owe it to that double: it kept me going this summer and gave me quite a workout. It's like pushing a wheelbarrow, full of 60# of bricks... Anyway, I was feeling really good about my accomplishment, my light breakfast. I felt thin.

My world gained proper perspective about 20 mins later in the Target women's dressing room, trying on bikinis. Fool, fool, fool. Why not just go home on a high note? But, I'm determined to not spend a week at the beach in a workout Speedo and 6-yr-old bikini. Basically, Target's "sizing strategy" for bathing suits is WHACKED. I tried on size L and XL, which translated to size 12-16, and every one of them was cut so low you could see my butt crack. Standing up. It was awful. I did find a tankini, solid black, but it was still awful. Even Jacob cried throughout the whole dressing room ordeal. He was horrified. Scarred. (don't feel sorry for him... HE'S to blame!)