So, I’ve lost a little weight, about 15 pounds or so. I thought that would mean more to me, as much as I complained when I was gaining them. Actually, it feels like more than 15 pounds. Whatever. It means very little to me, except… ASS PANTS! It feels like nothing much at all. I don’t feel skinny. I look a little frightening naked, honestly, and my energy is really low because the reason I’m so thin is that my taste buds have been ruined by the new medication so I eat very little. Therefore, I’m not working out anymore. No muscles. No barefoot running. No bad ass three mile runs. Just…a total lack of joy around food, which sucks after the novelty of that wears off, I promise, and a sick fascination with pulling my zipped and buttoned jeans down over my flat ass. Also gets old, I swear. Well. I really do like these pants, though.
God help me, I’m Kate Moss!
Not really, I’m about 20 pounds from there, but you get the idea.
Anyway, this whole thing has really got me thinking about how every wardrobe should have like- phases. Or something. Because the real problem has never been my size so much as the size of my clothes.
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