Letting Go

Every young woman promises herself two things :

1. She will not gain her "freshman fifteen". Or any weight at all, for that matter.
2. She will not let herself go.

The other day I brought my pair of pink, zebra-striped rubber flip flops to work. This is because I knew we would be trekking through a wet dark cave, and no one likes soggy shoes. These said flip flops were sitting on the table awaiting their turn to be worn. Then a conversation ensued:

"Whose flip flops are these?"
"Mine!"
"How did I know?"
"Probably because they're pink and girly."
"Yeah. . . Wait no, I've never seen you be girly."

And with this, I realized it. I have broken a promise to myself. I have let myself go. Everyday for work I am donned in basketball shorts, tshirt, and a saggy ponytail. I don't bother to get ready in between my morning workout and work. Maybe it is because I am lazy. Maybe it is because the heat is too hot for real clothes. Or maybe it is because all efforts to look nice are in vain since I almost always end my work day sporting some new stain and smelling like boy. I seriously sound like one of those moms, right? It is truly a pity that my closet is jammed with neglected clothes and jewelry. Oh well. Here's to not gaining weight!