Why fight fat fate?

I AM going shopping.

For a big fat pair of Bridget-Jones undies. In fact, I may buy seven - one for each day of the week - when I find a pair big and tight enough to make my post-baby tummy appear less fat.

You see, after my experience last week of nearly breaking my ankle in a silly and ill-fated attempt to fit into some old 'skinny-jeans', I decided to go buy some new clothes.

Clothes that are bigger than - gulp - size 10!

Yes I actually bought some 12s, 14s and even a top with a dreaded 'L' on the tag.

Once apon a time, if I didn't fit into a 10, I simply wouldn't buy it. Too bad if I really wanted that particular item of clothing - I was simply too stubborn to accept my body was getting bigger. I found some labels made their sizes generous and would love shopping at Cue and David Lawrence because I could usually fit a 10 perfectly, sometimes even an 8.

But I have sadly accepted that, thanks to my two wonderful children and my propensity for eating crap and not exercising, my body would not not mysteriously morph back into a size 10.

So on the weekend I went shopping at my old haunt, Garden City. I went with a purpose and braved the crowds, buying lots of roomy and suitable-for-being-a-housewife clothing from lovely shops like Witchery (Oh how I do love Witchery) and Esprit.

I was feeling ever so good for myself - I came home and tried on every item I bought. Then yesterday I stepped out in 100% new clothes. Oh I looked good - yes I still had it. I felt on top of the world.

And then I got congratulated on being pregnant.

Newsflash - I am not pregnant. I don't plan to be. Two is a nice number. It is all I can handle!

My self esteem came crashing down with a hefty thump. Oh I laughed it off and said I would rather be fat than pregnant, but underneath I was reeling. Shit - did I look that bad?

I know that there are worse things than looking fat. I could be seriously ill. My kids could be seriously ill...or on drugs....or nasty pieces of work. I could have a crummy marriage. I could be blind, or deaf or bed-ridden. Shit, I could have no kids!! Really, in the grand scheme it doesn't matter.

Which is why I have decided not too fight it. Life is too short for starving and busting a gut (pardon the pun) to lose weight. I have just decided to hide the lump and find some tight miracle undies instead.

And to sell all my skinny clothes on eBay.

Now, where are those Tim Tams?