Things that weigh much more than my baby.
Usually I keep it all clasped tight within my shirt, hiding it from even myself until it's resolved or forgotten or worth throwing away. Recently I opened my hand and stuck it out and I cried. And I was heard. And it felt good. And I could breathe.
I happened to get on the scale a bit later and I was FOUR POUNDS lighter than the day before. And I'd just had a sandwich and large Coke from Jimmy John's for lunch. (Since I'm being honest here, I admit eating some of those feelings might have felt good, too. It was an awesome sandwich.)
I wholeheartedly believe you should 1 Peter 5:7 the heck out of every heavy thing on your heart. But as a supplement, if only for the sake of just being real and child-like, I think having that good cry and confessing it out loud, releasing it from your own grip- the grip you are already losing hold of anyway- whether it is to your husband, friend, your cat...
It can breathe life and hope into your situation. Call your guard down and quit the pretending, let someone pick up one end, one corner, and get you a bit further along, even if just for a moment.
Maybe that's what is really keeping you out of your skinny jeans.
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