This is not typically something I like to bring up, or really talk about. I'm really not comfortable with self-promotion, bragging, or touting my own horn . . . but this morning I am pretty excited and I just really wanted to write a post on it.
Everyone who has gained weight inevitably has a range of clothing sizes in his or her closet and wardrobe. It is kind of depressing really, when one size no longer fits, you put that away for the summer, when you'll strive to get back and shape and will be able to put them on again. Slowly they change from one size too small to two sizes too small . . . and the prospect of saving them for summer becomes more and more wishful thinking rather than a plausible reality.
I had put a few pairs of jeans away a couple of years ago, and somehow they've managed to get through an apartment move and have escaped many bags of old clothes tossed in donation bins around New York State. Every so often when I am out of clean laundry and I have to frantically look for something suitable to put on to go to work, I'd head into the guest room and look through the wardrobe . . . ignorantly hoping that it would contain something of use. Who knows, maybe a magical flamboyant fairy put a new pair of jeans in there for me? Every time I would go searching, I would see the stack of jeans I had put away and it would make me stop and pause. It would always make me feel pretty crappy to know that there wasn't a chance my ghetto booty would fit in them.