Fat is as fat does

I'm at the supermarket buying baby formula. I am also buying an impressive amount of Pepperidge Farm products and ice cream. I'm not thinking about my sweet adorable baby at home, I'm thinking it'd be rad to crush those mint cookies and sprinkle them over Rocky Road. Brilliant! Having forgotten the shaving cream my husband requested I wheel back over to the hair stuff and search for Marco's brand. I'm standing there when a kid sporting an unfortunate white boy fro' enters the aisle and looks around. His friend in the next aisle shouts over to him, "Is he there?" I assume they're looking for their dad and before I can offer to help Q-Tip screams, "No! Just a fat lady". Ha! I turn around to see this sad fat lady Q-Tip is referring to. Hmm, looks like it's just him and me, which means....."Hey!!!!". Don't get me wrong, I know I've packed on some weight since college. I packed on some more during my four attempts at having a baby. More was piled on during each miscarriage and the depression that followed. I packed on even more once I finally had the aforementioned baby. So here I am. A fat lady. I guess I kept putting off losing weight because I figured I'm young and spry and have all the time in the world to get back to my fighting weight. Now, with my 33rd birthday behind me I see (thanks to two little jerks) that it's time to get serious. I want to see my little girl grow up. More importantly I want to fit into those awesome leather pants waiting for me in the back of the closet. Nevermind that leather pants are as hip as gauchos but you never know when the fashion tide will turn. When it does I'll be there. In leather pants.