The time has come. Time to bust out my A-game. No more excuses, no more whining. No more leisurely walks to the beach while chatting up SAJ or my mom via cell phone. Time to take on Cardiac Hill.
Cardiac Hill is a stretch of gradual incline behind my neighborhood leading from the beach to the houses up in the hills. Cardiac Hill is not for sissies, yo. Especially if you are pushing a 23-pounder in a stroller, which at mile marker .435 begins to feel like pushing a mahogany credenza up Mount Kilimanjaro.
But it’s time, peeps. And how do I know? Well, just ask these bermuda shorts. They relayed the message loud and clear yesterday while getting my Fash-On at Old Navy.
**side note** – Old Navy. Um, not a place I usually frequent for attire, but BY GOD PEOPLE, the new “longer” cotton tanks?! GENIUS, I say. GENIUS! And of course, these and these for Wito. Oh, who am I kidding? I LOVE Old Navy! I’m a mother! Coming soon – holiday sweatshirts and a FUPA!
My sister called a couple of days ago telling me I must purchase their new Bermuda shorts. So cute with wedges, so cute with flats, etc. And unlike most of you, I am a huge fan of Bermuda shorts. I think they can be very chic with the right accessories and of course, the right body type (i.e. – mine, PRE-pregnancy). I tossed Wito in the car and made my way. When I arrived, the shorts were directly in my line of sight, all colorful and just begging to be tried on. I grabbed a couple of pairs in several sizes and made my way to the dressing room.
I enjoy employing the try-one-size-larger-to-help-build-the-ego method when trying on clothes. Then, I can pat myself on the back when they are hanging off my hips. I chose the TOSLTHBTE pair of shorts and pulled them up my calves, knees, thighs, hmph. Hmph. They just were not wanting to button. Or zip. That’s funny…they must have been improperly labeled. After all, these shorts were the size I wore in college when a typical dinner consisted of a large pizza and 6 pints of Killian’s Red. So, I called to the headset person and had them bring me another pair. Same thing. What the fuck, Old Navy? I know you’re el cheapo, but let’s try to get some size uniformity here! So I left sans Bermuda shorts, but with thoughts of sending Old Navy Corporate Headquarters a letter addressing their sizing issues. “Like, get on the same page with the American size chart. DUH. Love, Whoorl.”
And then my sister called. And informed me that her normal size fit just fine. Just fine! And then I swallowed the extremely bitter pill. I have 5 (maybe 6. Fine, 7.) pregnancy pounds still lurking on my body and by GOD, they have to come off. Right away. I have upwards of 10 pairs of fabulous jeans and none of them fit. NONE. What’s a girl to do?
I’ll tell you. For starters, I drove back to Old Navy and bought two pairs of the too-small shorts. They WILL fit in the near future thanks to my new friend and nemesis, Cardiac Hill.
Oh yes, that’s right. Cardiac Hill.
If you happen to be in my neighborhood and see a green Bugaboo careening down the sidewalk, Holla! I’ll be the comatose lady a quarter-mile up the hill.