Normally, I start off my updates with an excited “I lost ___ pounds!”
I won’t be doing that this week because I’m staying at a friend’s apartment and I forgot to pack my scale.
When I say “forgot” I mean that I purposefully didn’t pack my scale because I needed a break from Eugene.
Yes, I named my scale “Eugene.” If it’s going to know how much I weigh then the freakin’ thing better have a name.
My car is also called Sid the Hybrid.
Anyway, even though Eugene and I are taking a break, I know that I’ve lost weight this week. How do I know? Because one thing they never tell you about losing weight is that you’ll have tween stages. When I say “tween” I don’t mean that awkward stage in childhood where you’re not as cute as you were at 5 or 6. Not that stage where you’re limbs are too long and you have the nose of an adult, but the chin of a midget.
I’m talking about “tween” as in stages when you are inbetween sizes. My clothes are dropping off to the point where I look like the paperbag princess, but when I try to wear a smaller size, I look like a Vienna sausage. Tween stages suck.
Yes, I feel great about the fact that I’ve lost weight, but I feel breeze even when I’m fully clothed. The other day I almost left my underwear in a parking garage because I didn’t realize it was slipping off. Those undies have since been removed from my circulating wardrobe. Sorry to talk about my undies, but I look like a hippie in my oversized clothes and you all know how I feel about the hippie people.
I’m very happy that they’re all in love with the trees and tie dye, but that doesn’t absolve them from having to take showers.