Today a miracle occurred and it is called "I fit into size 6 and 8 skirts."
Please allow this to sink in.
I definitely don't fit into size 6 or 8 jeans, but skirts, bless their sweet hearts, are more forgiving. They don't mind butts and thighs.
They were junk store skirts and I bought them because just having those sweet single digit numbers in my closet pleases me.
In related news, my scale is trying to make me go completely insane.
Every morning I weigh myself.
Today when I weighed myself the number was Particularly Awesome. I stepped off and weighed myself again. Still Particularly Awesome.
Not content to just enjoy Particularly Awesome, I shifted the scale by two inches on the floor and stepped back on. The number changed- about a pound and a half more than Particularly Awesome. I stepped off. I got back on. Still a pound and a half above awesome. I tried putting the scale back into the original spot- still a pound and a half above awesome.
What the hell?
Why must the scale taunt me like this? Is it in league with Toblerone? What have I done to deserve these horrible mind games????
I suppose I could just weigh myself once a week, but that goes against everything I am!
Cheese. Sour Cream. Guacamole.
What was I talking about?