I lost a modest amount of weight, and I am constantly getting freaked out by what I see in the mirror. What the hell happened to my thighs? I keep worrying that one morning I’ll wake up and discover they’re baaaaaaack!!!
And what the hell size do I wear in . . . ANYTHING? As long as I could remember I wore a size 14 pants, and an XL shirt. Now I wear . . . um . . . GAWD, I don’t KNOW! I put on a size 12 pants and it falls off my hips. I put on a size 10 and it cuts at the waist and cups and sculps every remaining glob of fat on gut and ass. I put on a size large shirt, thinking, no way will this will fit on me, and it’s too large. Except that the next large I try, the buttons are about to pop open.
And everything’s a MOVING TARGET. I have to wear a belt to keep up pants I bought a month ago. I don’t know if I was just temporarily insane when I bought them. I thought they maybe fit right the first couple of times I wore them, but maybe I was just insane then, too.
Do not talk to me about bras.
Just do not.
I’m serious.
I know this sounds whiney, and I’m really not fishing for weight-loss compliments . . . I just wish I could freakin’ dress myself in the morning!!!
Aside from that, I self-identify as polyamorous, and still am, philosphically. But, uh, inactively, I guess. It’s hard enough to meet hot, smart poly or poly-tolerant guys when you’re 20 and single . . . Now, I know one. And I’m married to him.