From the “Be Careful What You Wish For” Department

So one day my clothes fit fine and the next they are loose, very loose. How does this happen? It’s like coming home from an evening out and seeing a zit on your face that most definitely was not there when you left. At what point – what second – in the evening did it appear?

I’ve shrunk just enough for my clothes to look sloppy, but not enough for the next size down to fit. (I know, because I’ve been out shopping both yesterday and today and came home empty handed.) Sloppy is not a good look when my next three weeks include fashion shows and parties in London, Milan and Paris, plus a behind-the-scenes Oscar dress fitting (for a celebrity who shall remain nameless – not for me).

There are people who literally do spreadsheets for their outfits during these weeks and pay astronomical airplane extra luggage charges and I have one dress and exactly zero pairs of trousers that fit. And nobody wears dresses (unless they are little smock dresses, which I can’t wear because they make me look pregnant) to the London shows.

I dread these shows under ordinary circumstances, when I have my black armor at the ready – clothes I know suit me (and fit me). I can’t help but be slightly amused that losing weight has made me dread the shows even more.

Grateful as I am for some visible sign of progress, I still wish I could call in fat to work. Either that, or keep my coat buttoned up until the next size down fits.