It's bad enough that I got my People magazine on Friday with Valerie Bertinelli (age 48) on the cover looking way thinner and muscular than me (I have to guess at least a little Photoshop was involved). But then I had to go and try on bathing suits before hitting the beach on Saturday. I haven't tried in a bathing suit in over 2 years (and 10 lbs), so this was daunting to say the least.
I picked out an orange and white stripped bikini - with a matching pair of mini board shorts (thinking the more of my butt covered up the better). The good news is the first size was too big, the bad news is that when I finally did get the right size, I got a good, long glimpse in the mirror. The dressing room itself was showered in perhaps the most unflattering light known to man. I'm pretty sure the store had installed 600 watt florescent lighting and Fun House Fat mirrors, because I can't really be covered in cellulite from my waist to my ankles, right? I mean, when did my little muffin top become an SUV-sized spare tire (which by the way becomes two spare tires stacked on one another when I sit down or bend)? If Dr. 90210 came in that room with a black sharpie to circle all the fat on my body I would have looked like a freaking leopard. He would have been better off bringing in a can of black spray paint and just tagged my ass (and legs, calves, stomach, arms etc...) The only thing that wouldn't be circled in black would have been my fingers and the top part of my face.
The truth is, I usually look fine in clothes but I can't wear a long black sleeve cotton top with jeans every day of the year, can I? I'm not a big eater, but I am maybe one of the laziest persons on the planet (just behind the guy that is too fat to get out of his bedroom and has Richard Simmons standing outside his bedroom wall with a blow horn and a wrecking ball). As forty looms closer and closer I think I may have to actually start working out on a Regular (gasp!) basis.
I hate you Valerie Bertinelli.
