Out of the blue, my butt seemingly doubled in size. The truth is, it's probably not more than a pound or two. But I'm short; it all shows.
Pants that two weeks ago were loose are tight. And if you are not at home, you have no options. You have to wear too-tight pants to work. This, of course, feels great.
The too-tight pants morning conversation:
"I've gained weight. Don't you think? Have I suddenly gotten fat?"
I turn around, facing my butt to him, talking to him over my shoulder. "Look at my butt. Doesn't it look bigger?"
He gets all squirmy, still without responding.
I turn and face him, and look him straight in the eye. "Don't you think?"
He looks like a deer caught in headlights. "I. . .I don't know how to answer that."
"It's bigger, right? Just tell me."
"I've gained weight. We're eating too much."
"Those pants are tighter than they were."
"But were you looking at me before thinking, 'Oh, her butt! She's gained weight,' or did you just think that because you saw me in these pants?"
He clearly hates this topic. He so doesn't want to be talking about the increased size of my butt, and whether or not he was thinking this before, or if it's the pants.
"We'll go on a diet. We're going to start running more this weekend."
"I don't want to go on a diet. I want my normal eating back. I want my old butt back. I want my butt to be the size it was before."
As in, before you. Implication being, you have singlehandedly and deliberately increased the size of my butt.