You take the high road, and I'll just sit here with my lemonade

A few days ago, I was despairing over my realization that I would never get into a pair of Spanx.  Any Spanx. Ever. I have bought four pairs, over Spanx history.  One pair I naively bought in the size indicated for me on the package.  I couldn't even get to the event at which I was hoping to look elegant. I very inelegantly removed them while still in the car, sitting behind the wheel, stuffed them in a plastic bag and tossed them when I got home.  Couldn't breathe. Blue lips are not elegant.

Ever hopeful, I bought the remaining three pair, in ascending sizes, as my real size descended over the years.  The last was three sizes larger than my dress size and too painful to even contemplate wearing. And then today, in the New York Times, I have been vindicated! The day of Spanx is over!  The stock is steadily dropping.  Sick of being in excruciating pain, the advent new fabrics, and the awareness that comfort is more important than fantasy slimness, not to mention the blinding revelation that everyone else out there looks like you, a new day is upon us.

I have always been ahead of the curve. It is such a relief.

This brings me to why I am wearing sweat pant shorts. Is it "pant?". As ugly as sweat pants only more so, I am wearing them because I am facing a challenge. A few days ago, my ever optimistic trainer said, "It about time to go up the mountain again." Something didn't immediately click in my brain to hear the implied "you" in that sentence. He was saying it was time for me to walk up Kennesaw Mountain again.  A mile and a half, sharp forty-five degree incline. I did that almost exactly six months ago and have rested on my laurels ever since.  But somehow, I thought that was a "once and done" kind of thing. I never expected to have to do it twice. Of course he walks with me, and we talk constantly, which makes it somewhat less painful, but still, what I am going to wear? 

I have decided on my staple of a gray t-shirt, roomy  enough for a troop of small Brownie scouts to pitch as a tent, and knee length shorts.  Hence the above referenced abbreviated sweat pants.
 I wore ankle length spandex last time, but the heck with that. It gets hot this time of year.

I have a couple of weeks to stew over this. And I need to get out and hike to get ready. Although I do a lot of exercising with resistance bands and weights, that doesn't prepare me emotionally to show a span of pale leg. So I am addressing that with a daily slathering of self tanning moisturizer, which should assure me of a cheery citrus tone from the knees down in a couple of weeks or less.  I'll let you know.