by Christie Perkins

Good news. Good, good, news.

I fit into my fat pants!

Yeah. I know. It’s not every day that you don’t fit into your pants that you get to laugh about it. But, quite frankly, I was tired of my flubber blubbering all over the edge of my pants. And besides this massive fat globules overhang was shading my feet from the sun.

Hence the white legs.

 

Laughing When You Don’t Fit Into Your Fat Pants

Anyway. It’s not my first joyful experience with upgraded pants. I remember being a mini me and my mom dropped me off at my grandmas house for the weekend. Well, apparently Grandma’s home cooking took immediate effect. I hollered for her help the next morning while getting dressed.

“Grandma? Come here. I need you,” I said. The pants my mom packed weren’t going to work.

Grandma tried to shake me into those stubborn pants while I remained suspended in air. No amount of shaking would make my meat slide into the seat. But, I was young and inexperienced in feelings of flubber defeat. Instead of tears there was an eruption of giggles spilling all over the room.

Grandma had a contagious laugh and apparently when you don’t fit into your pants it’s funny. Especially when Grandma’s helping you and your toes can’t find the floor.

The giggle fit made the experience a lifetime memory. Grandma truly understood the phrase to laugh or cry.

In this moment choosing my emotion was easy.

And that is how Grandma handled any disappointing situation. Just laugh. It’s right in line with Marjorie Pay Hinckley’s insight, “The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.”

And I have found that laughing works when my brothers irked me or my boys annoyed me. Laughing (or smiling) just seems to change the situation. Even when pants mysteriously shrink overnight. Then you have heave and squeeze with all your might and still it ends up just not quite right. So, I just have to remember one little thing that will fix this blight:

A smirk works.

 

Developing the Emotional Flubber Defeat

The last few weeks (let’s get real here: year) I’ve been attempting to squish into my skinnier pants. Every morning it looks like this: Squish. Then splish, jiggle, jiggle, plop. That’s about the time the ugly face drops.

Sorry for the gross out.

But this time choosing my emotion wasn’t quite as easy. Grandma wasn’t triggering a laugh and of course I have developed the fabulous emotional flubber defeat.

Oh the blessings of age and accountability.

It’s true. I have some responsibility to this. But only some, as the cancer beast has it’s responsibility too (ok, I’m pointing fingers but my doc told me this weight gain would happen with my treatments. It stinks when they are right.). Yes, I’ve omitted basketball (whaaaaah! Thank you bulging discs) and committed to… well lets just omit my sugar commitments. But, broccoli, asparagus, and steamed carrots have a place in my palate too. Anyway. Then Ms. Cancer Doc puts me on a sugar craving shot (ok not exactly, but they warned me of it’s magnetic power to sweets). Yippee skip.

So where does the good news of this fat pants come into play?

 

Finding Joy in Fat Pants

So I was starting to worry about the button popping and clomping someone in the head. So, I did the inevitable. I pulled out the stack of fat pants, scrunched my nose, and tried them on. You know the stack, the ones tucked away just in case there’s an explosion. Well. It’s true, I didn’t want to do it at all. I dreaded this moment because that meant only one thing. And you can fill in the blanks.

I don’t really want to say it. (And I don’t really want to hear it, I’m plugging my ears now.) Moving on.

But, as I’ve learned with all hard things in life… there’s always something good waiting for you on the other side of that hard thing. So, even in the case of fat pants, I faced the difficulty and slid those babies on.

Fat pants, here I come!

And we totally bonded. There was no bulging and blubbering. No visible fat globule overhang (because it was safely tucked away into the extra upgraded fabric). And man, it looked good. It looked good because I wasn’t sucking the life from the poor little fat folds. I was embracing them with a bigger house. And who doesn’t want a bigger house?

Ah. Sweet moments in life. Who knew life could be so good in fat pants.

And I’m not going to lie, I felt a genuine smile stretch across my face because I actually looked skinnier in my fat pants. So cool and messed up all at the same time. Life’s in balance once again. So the next time you find that life hands you that dissatisfied ugly face. Upgrade to the fat pants and find the joy in embracing the change.

You’ve got this man. Just give it a little smirk and tell yourself it looks good. Because smirks work. Then don’t cry. Giggle. Giggle because apparently it’s funny when your pants don’t fit anymore. At least that’s what Grandma would say.

Have a great day and know that today will be a little better when you just accept what life hands you and choose to smile about it. Give thanks for those fat pants. It’s all going to be just fine. Believe it.

 

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