April 2nd, 2008


Oh, fer cryin' out loud...

Went to Target yesterday for the usual run of stuff one goes to Target for, and decided to look at their skirts/shorts/etc, since...well...the Boots.

AAAAnd apparently I'm down to a size 8.* Right before I got separated, I was a size 16. I'm half the woman I used to be. Great.

This is...well, really Not Cool. I went off the meds three weeks ago! I should be gaining weight again! My appetite isn't huge--still at one and a half to two meals a day--but I'm definitely able to pack away more than I was. But I'd...kinda expected it to all come back, ya know? I was really expecting my appetite to return to the usual levels, and that I'd have to worry about suddenly packing on thirty pounds. But apparently my metabolism reset itself sometime in the last six months, and my body now believes that I am supposed to be this size.


I mean, sure, I'm hot, but I was hot at size 12, goddamnit, and I have a wardrobe for THAT. Do I have to go back on the cheesecake breakfast diet or something?

Yeah, yeah, there are worse fates, cry me a river, but I keep remembering a buddy of mine in college who was a recovering anorexic, and could NOT keep weight on, despite her best effort. At one point I ran into her after she'd been stressed out for a few weeks, blinked, and blurted out "My god! You look like a ten year old with a big head!" (Tact. I has it.) This haunts me.

Oh, well, nothing Waffle House can't fix, I suppose. In other news, Ben is still sneezy, but has new antibiotics--mouth ulcers healing up, but still not gone.

And I have too much work to do. And tomorrow I have to add up all my taxes pronto for the tax guy on Friday. Uff da.

*Brook actually eyeballed that at the Con, but I scoffed it off--size ten, sure, size eight is just crazy talk. Pardon while I eat crow.

(no subject)

And another thing....

I had this purse. It was black, lots of silver rings and buckles and whatnot, lots of places to attach pens and lights and so forth, which I need because otherwise they go missing.

I say "had" because a few days back, Ben decided to claim it for his own in the vocabulary of tomcats everywhere. Possibly he was feeling insecure since he's been ill, maybe he smelled other cats on it since it had been spending some time at Kevin's House 'O Feline Rescue...hard to say. He's generally very good about not doing that, so I couldn't get too mad. The end result was not pretty, though, and there's just no damn way to get cat urine out of leather--I tried a number of solutions, with no luck. (Meanwhile, Ben was sleeping on the thing. Apparently my very manly cat likes purses.)

So yesterday I think "Okay, need a new purse. I will duck out to the mall and grab a new one, it'll take ten minutes, I'll be on my way."

*pause to allow female readers to have a hearty laugh*


Purse shopping is...not easy. Particularly if you're cheap. The last one cost me twenty bucks, and I liked it fine, but unfortunately they were out of that model. So then I wandered into another department store--Hudson Belk or something--and they had more purses than I've seen in a month of Sundays, including things that I could not imagine anyone willingly slinging over their arm, and things that were just about large enough to carry chapstick, provided it was SMALL chapstick, and every possible variation of fake croc skin that could be devised, including one that had zebra stripes.

It was scary. And it went on forever, sort of like the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Then I found one that was just about perfect, and looked at the price tag, and there were a whole BUNCH of numbers and the first one was a five.

I put it back, hyperventilating quietly to myself--people spend HOW MUCH on purses!?--and slunk back to the area with the 50% off signs.

Anyway, I found one at last--not as cool as the last one, but a nice elegant black leather, fairly subdued, room for binoculars and sketchbook and so forth--for under thirty bucks, but jesus christ on a pony...