I haven’t been on holiday for three years. And in that time I’ve gained around 2 stones. TWO STONES.
I’ve had to buy an entire new holiday wardrobe. Which, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t completely gutted about because HI NEW CLOTHES that are actually semi fashionable and not straight out of 2013. But still.
I’ve had to size up.
Today I tried on my shorts. Four pairs. None of them would do up.
I’m debating whether to bother replacing them. The thought of standing in a changing room, staring at myself as I will the buttons to do up is a bit much. I have dresses, I have skirts, and I have one (new) pair of shorts that fit. Maybe I don’t need another pair?
I’ve never felt like this before.
I’ve never had the countdown to a holiday be so focussed around how much weight I can lose. It’s always been excitement. Shopping lists. Organising bug spray and sun cream and making sure I get the right mixture of shoe styles without taking my entire shoe collection. Working out who’s taking straighteners and who’s taking the hairdryer.
It’s been about friends, and good times. Anticipation. Excitement.
It’s been about what excursions we’ll book, which places we’ll visit, where we’ll find the best pina colada.
It’s never been about weight. Never.
But this year it is.
I’m nervous to be on a beach in front of strangers. I’m sure I’d be even more nervous to be on a beach in front of people I know. I don’t want anyone to see the evidence of my Deliveroo habit and gym laziness. It’s part embarrassment, part guilt.
Weight gain is a funny thing. Mine has been gradual, and it’s taken until now for me to really notice the popping buttons and the ever growing ‘for when it fits me again’ section of my wardrobe.
But holidays are fun. They’re about relaxing and enjoying time with people I care about. Letting loose. Not having to worry about whether I’ve cleaned the loo yet or if I’ve done the food shop or if the pots have been washed.
They’re meant to be fun.
We’re lucky we get to go on holiday this year. And I should be grateful. I am. But there’s an overriding sense of dread about stripping down to my swimwear.
I really hate that fact.