This past semester was, outside of my first year, was just really really difficult. I am still working through the details of that. But mostly it just seems like a major transition period where the transition is never quite over. I am over at She Loves today, talking about what it feels like when your pants and your life don’t fit.
I was asking God to help me lose weight. Instead He made me buy bigger pants.
You see, I had been praying to God that my pants would fit. Not those words exactly, but for sure I had been praying all around that topic. God give me more discipline, more will power, help me to resist the cookie, give me good rest, help me to wake up early to run. God, PLEASE let the number on the scale be smaller than it was yesterday.
I really needed my pants to fit. They weren’t not buttoning or indecently tight, but they were making me uncomfortable, these size eight pants of mine. I had to suck in to button up. I had marks on myself at the end of the day. My pants just plain didn’t feel good, and y’all, I want my pants to feel good. Because my pants weren’t just making my skin feel bad, they were making me feel bad.
It takes SO MUCH courage to say that things aren’t working. Thanks for showing how that’s okay.
Oh friend, I love this in so many ways. I love this because my pants don’t fit and I don’t always, don’t ever, don’t _____ want to admit I need the bigger pants. But I also love this because of the work predicament: I’ve been there. After four years of teaching (high school English as well), I remember finally admitting to myself, to my friends and to my coworkers that this wasn’t the right fit. I remember sitting in the assistant principal’s office, bawling, not understanding how something so right (leaving teaching and following my heart), could feel so wrong, at least in that moment. Here if you ever need or want to talk.