Lessons From My Husband's T-Shirt

The other morning I got up and put on my workout clothes. Something I do most mornings because I am less likely to punk out on my workout if I am already dressed for it. This morning in particular, however I had forgotten to lay out a shirt with my workout clothes. Ugh, I did not want to go upstairs to get one and chance waking up my boys. (Quiet time in the morning is a much loved thing to me!) So I dug around the laundry room and could only find shirts belonging to my hubby. I pulled out a white hanes pocket T that I had worn sometimes right after I had my third son.

Have you ever had to do that? Wear your husband's clothes because all of yours were too small? I hated it. I have this thing in my head that I just should not fit into my husband's clothes for any reason...I'm the girl...I'm the wife! I want to look all hot chick like they show in the movies when I wear hubby's shirts; not all, gee, did this come out of my closet or yours? It was really hard and when I lost enough to fit into some of my own clothes I was ecstatic.

Back to my story. So I put this shirt on fully expecting it to more or less fit. And lo and behold, what did I find??? It was huge. I mean wear-me-for-a-nightshirt-swimming-in-it HUGE! I was amazed. The sleeve reached down to my elbow and the hem almost covered my short workout shorts. I think you could seriously fit two of me in there!

I stood there in my sweet hubby's shirt and inspected myself in the mirror a little closer. I'm starting to get those little nobby things, you know, bumps of muscle on your shoulders? From the weights. Gotta say, I kinda like 'em. And I am definitely getting downright thin in 3 areas: my ankles, wrists, and around my rib cage. Hoping for that to spread to my boobs, butt, and gut, but I'll take it!

Right then I decided: enough of the scale freaking; I had slipped back into that more than I should allow. I'm not a number. The scale is just a measurement of how much fat I've beaten from my body. It's not a measure of my worth! It's not who I am. Heck, it doesn't even account for the muscle that I have obviously gained. So, I gotta say: Bite me scale, I'll take my hubby's t-shirt over you any day!

Moral of the story, changes are happening. I am making progress. And I am happy about it. Loving myself a little more, all thanks to my husband's T-Shirt.