Well, here I am again. As spring emerges, I find myself in the annual "panic." My summer clothes don’t fit!
Once the temperatures start to rise, I go through the ritual of lugging boxes filled with my summer clothing up to my room from the basement. I’m excited, at first, because summer clothes mean warmer days! (Although I’m from Maine, I’ve never really liked the cold.) I am in a great mood as I open the boxes, remembering tank tops, dresses, and sandals I have been missing for so many dark months. As I take out each article, I reminisce about last year’s trips to the beach, and evening walks under sunset skies. I picture myself lounging on my back porch with a margarita. I celebrate surviving yet another chilly and long New England winter. That joyousness, however, quickly dissipates as I begin to try things on. Immediately, I’m frustrated. My shorts don’t fit. My tank tops are tight. My shirts don’t hang over my waist the way I remember them doing last summer. I hate all of my clothes. Nothing looks good on me.
In no time, I am beating myself up for the lack of discipline I had over the winter, cursing every bowl of creamy soup, a glass of wine by the fire, and Friday night pizza. It's a pattern many of us struggle with. For a few months, we've been wearing baggy sweaters and cozying up on the couch. We've eaten crockpot comfort meals and binged Netflix series. We’ve been holed up in a cocoon of sorts, comfortably isolated from the world, warm and toasty in our fleece blankets, cozy pajamas, and an extra layer of fat.
In spring, we’re required to leave our lairs and become part of society. Spring comes in like a lion with this reminder.
Every spring, when I pull my tight shorts over my thicker thighs, I also succumb to another ritual I’ve created: I begin a crazy diet to make sure I drop enough weight to fit back into everything before June. Desperate for quick progress, I’ll attempt to eat Keto for a few weeks, fast for longer periods of the day, or restrict myself from anything fun like sugar, alcohol, or carbs. I’ll increase my workouts to two hours instead of one, and drink water till it’s coming out of my ears.
This year, however, I'm determined to have more grace with myself. I resolve to break down the fundamental framework that I’ve been building every year telling me that I suck because my shorts from last year don’t fit. If something is tight, I'm going to put it aside and wear the clothes that do. If I need to replace something with a larger size for a few weeks, so be it. I will continue to eat healthy, exercise, and enjoy life to the fullest - including the carbs, margaritas, and trips to the local farm for after-dinner ice cream cones. Life is too damn short.
I'm tired of this pattern ruining my excitement for the long-awaited arrival of spring.
