Other days I think: This just sucks.
Yesterday was one of those days. Wearing my MBTs, I walked 45 minutes to Matalan, one of the many English chains that does cheap, fabulous high fashion (well, some of it’s high fashion – some of it is fashion victim, and some of it just awful). I specifically wanted to buy a Chloe knockoff that’s been in all the magazines, but in the back of my mind I thought maybe I’d find something cute to wear to a party I was going to last night.
I’ve been my current weight before, and -- cue Aimee Mann's "Stupid Thing" playing in my head as I stood in the dressing room -- I should know better than to think that losing 10 pounds at this weight makes any difference in how clothes fit. It doesn’t. It will be at least another 10, maybe more.
So they don’t have the dress yet (never mind that it's white and would probably look horrific on me at this size) and everything I try on looks terrible and I walk home feeling hungry, hungry, hungry and grumpy that I need to be very careful about what I eat so I can have a couple of drinks at the party. Can’t have a chocolate bar for a snack and red wine later. I stopped at a shop to buy a diet Coke and looked at all the cream buns longingly.
I'm on weekend duty and it was busy, newswise, so I ended up without much time to fuss over what I was wearing and curse all the cute clothes in my closet that don't fit. My fabulous green satin shoes were a small consolation, though the heavier you are the harder it is to last in heels. After three hours I had to switch to ballet flats.
It's been a whole week of eating out and drinks out and I'm tired of being hungry all day so I can stay within my food budget at night. (Don't tell me about all the vegetables I can eat -- baby carrots and cherry tomatoes only do so much.) Frankly, I'm looking forward to eating exactly what I want (within points, of course) and not having to go anywhere today.
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