Confessions of a One-Track Mind

I'm sane this week, which I really appreciate after last week's hysteria. I usually don't think of myself as a special snowflake, but every once in a while, I come unglued, and it isn't pretty.

Anyway, I've been keeping busy. I'm trying to make room for change, and I know, that sounds kinda NewAge metaphysical, but on a simple, practical level, I have tons of clothes I'll never wear again, and I'm trying to get them out of the way so I can keep track of the stuff that fits.

This has meant a block of time spent in the garage...I'm transfering all the outgoing stuff to the living room so I can sort it by size. The stuff that's size 30 or over is going to a gal from church, the rest I'll post on fatshionxchange in hopes of making a few bucks. Whatever hasn't sold by the end of January, I'll donate.

That freed up a whole bunch of hangers! I'm sure they'll come in handy while I sort through the piles in my bedroom. I haven't even gotten to my bedroom yet, which does need to happen fairly soon; it would be helpful if I could get my closet winnowed so I can bring in the keepers from the garage.

Meanwhile, the garage already looks better: I got the floor picked up to where I could put down an area rug. Not the old one from the living room, but a slightly smaller one that I got ages ago, earmarked for my bedroom. That never happened, but it works nicely in the space out there. In addition to keeping my feet a little warmer when I'm doing laundry during the winter, I figure having an actual rug down will make it more noticeable when there's stuff on the floor. Otherwise, I have a finely developed ability to tune out clutter.

Getting behind one section of clothes to some shelves, I came across a box with a ceramic Father Christms on horseback. It's dated 1995, but I don't remember painting it. (I used to be very much into ceramics and did other Father Christms/Santa figures; I did a woodland Santa that I gave to Peter---god knows whatever happened to that one---and an undersea Santa that I gave to GK, which presumably she still has.) I brought this one into the house and perched him on my entertainment unit. Nice timing, self. Usually I'd find something like that in February.

Today I've been working in the living room, trying to make enough room to be able to sort things. Over the weekend, I went through and organized my DVDs, which doesn't really impact the rest of the room, but now I can at least see what I have. I cleared off the coffee table so that all it has on it is the dragonfly dish GK gave me for my birthday. *I* know I've made progress, but a casual visitor would likely be appalled.

I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about linens and towels. I made a concentrated effort and got through the pile of stuff that had accumulated atop my wicker chair. Big stack of sheets and towels and pillowcases. Found one pair of my grey slacks, a few skirts and tops...got that all hung, but I really do need to address my closet, because I'm running out of "temporary" places to hang things!

I know I'm probably not going about this in the most organized way, but at least I'm doing something. Right? Right.



Also, I'm currently 271.6, which is somewhere between the best of times and the worst of times, but considering my record high, or even where I began this year, definitely closer to the best of times.

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I'm in my skinny jeans. (Well, not right this second; I'm actually in my nightgown.) But this morning, getting dressed to go work a dog (who is gonna be A LOT of work, little psycho fucker), I recalled that my so-called skinny jeans had been laundered during the recent marathon. And considering the fact that my weight is currently lower than it's been since at least 1989, I thought I'd try them on. I slid them on and pulled them right up and they zipped and everything.

You've got to understand, I've had these jeans for about 20 years, I wore them for maybe a year or two, and outgrew them. For the longest time, I couldn't even *think* of getting into them---I was maybe 320-325 when I got them, and spent the last 15 years or so at or above 340. All-time high was 393, when I was lucky to find size 32 stretch pants that fit, let alone jeans.

I was more than a little surprised that they've survived the assorted purges, because there was a time when I resigned myself to being a blimp forever and packed off everything below a size 28---these are 26s, I believe. Never mind optimism, it was never going to happen, I'd be doing good just to have a weight that registered on my scale---which goes up to 350---I'd never, ever fit into those jeans again.

Well...I do. In fact, my thighs have apparently shrunk, because they're downright loose in the legs. I wouldn't say they're real comfortable to sit in for long periods of time, but I'm not shrink-wrapped like I was when I got them. They aren't stylish---they're tapered---Stacy and Clinton forgive me! and the color is an odd shade of blue; not sure if they faded or what, but I don't remember them having that teal undertone.

Don't care. They fit! I'm thrilled. And thankful...that I was wrong.



ETA: I checked: They're 28s. Still, there was a time when they would've been several sizes too small, and now they're generously forgiving. W00t.
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Pounds gained while house-sitting: 7 (Less than I feared; this is why I do not trust digital scales.)

Pounds of cans recycled so far: 20 (Good for $10 even. This was just what I accumulated at the C's and dug out of my trunk when I cleaned the car. Several more bags are awaiting egress at home.)

Looming crises: Too numerous to list. Assorted bills coming due, threats from the county about my yard, and what the hell possessed me to offer to bring hospitality for church this Sunday?!?!

"Ain't that just the cherry on the turd?" award goes to: The digital converter box, which picks up ONE channel (CBS)---when the weather is good. Raining pitchforks, not so good.

After three months, more or less, in relatively "normal" surroundings, I'd forgotten what an unholy mess I live in. Am in the mood to Throw Out All the Things---IF I had a shitload of trashbags and a clue where to start. It's times like this when I really miss GK---an hour of her whip-cracking and there was Serious Progress.

Thankfully, there are signs of autumn: It's still warm, but it's about three degrees away from being outright hot. They're predicting overnight lows in the 60s for this weekend, which makes me so happy, if I had a tail I would wag it. It reminds me that even horrible things eventually change for the better, if you just keep going.

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Weight as of this morning: 298 3/4 pounds.

Most people would probably be appalled. For me, this is the first time in about 20 years that I've had a weight beginning with a '2'. It's a triumph.

I can't stop smiling.

GO, ME!!! \o/

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A long, long time ago, a couple years before she moved away, GK gave me a very pretty dark green skirt for Christmas. As I recall, she wrapped the box with a leopard print chiffon scarf (which became one of my favorite accessories and I wore it to death), and tucked in the box was a copy of Mode magazine. The skirt was great---long, floaty brocade, a deep emerald color---just one problem: It was too bloody SMALL.

At the time, I was in the range of 350. I got a wild hair and dug it out this evening, and IT FITS!!! Negative forty pounds DOES make a difference! It's ankle-length and fabulous. I foresee it being a staple of my wardrobe this holiday season. Somewhere---I shall have to ferret it out---I have an emerald green lace duster to top it with. As long as I have a contrasting top under it---and I've got a couple metallic possibilities---it should work nicely.

I keep reading that lace is the big trend this winter; I'll be right in fashion! After the holidays, well, it's a solid color, so quite a lot of things should complement it.

While I was digging, I also ran across a NWT navy "silk" top that ought to be rather versatile---something else to pair with my ruffled navy "picture" hat, for one thing. It's good that I don't often get to Target---I was browsing their site earlier and saw several hats there that made me moan. The purple cloche in particular. Also, WalMart has some sweet cloches in basic brown or grey, either of which would work with what I already own. That's a style that looks good on me; and is popular to boot, much better than the caps that have been so trendy the last couple of years.

I wonder if I still have that black crocheted cardi with the dragonfly pattern? It was snug when I got it, then I gained weight, so I never wore it. That could also be an asset!

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It was while I was working in the Allied Health office with Kat that I had an experience that I have since come to refer to as The Skinny Sandwich.

My working hours were mostly scheduled for the days I was on campus, which was sensible. I occasionally had early classes (for me, that meant anything before 10 AM), which meant no breakfast, because I'm not one of those people who can leap out of bed and face food.

So come 12:30-1:00, which was about the time my student assistanct job started, I was starving. If I had money, I'd raid the vending machines or see if there was anything appetizing at the cafeteria. Mostly I'd wait til I got home and devour everything in sight.

There was another student assistant in the office---I think her name was Rhoda or Rhonda, something like that. Anyway, she was a sweet girl, petite, brunette, soft-spoken---and one afternoon, she offered me her sandwich. She was getting ready to leave and go have lunch with her boyfriend, so it needed a good home.

Did I mention she was petite? Let me tell you why: This sandwich consisted of two naked slices of white bread, about six fronds of lettuce, and ONE thin shaving of ham. Seriously, you could read a newspaper through it.

I'm not mocking Rhoda/Rhonda's generousity; it was meant kindly. But it underscored to me the difference between me (somewhere in the 330 range at the time) and her (one-third that). If I had made that sandwich, it would've been glued together with mayonaise and mustard, there would have been a quarter-pound of pig on it, some cheese, and no lettuce whatsoever, because I am not in the habit of confusing a salad with a sandwich, and besides, I loathe iceburg lettuce.

I like food. I enjoy a good sandwich (again, one not trying to disguise itself as a salad, where meat and cheese are the primary ingredients), a good pizza, fried chicken and all the other pleasures of the table in plenty. Which is why I've been over 300 pounds for the last twenty years---moderation is not something that comes naturally to me. I regard a "skinny" sandwich like that as a travesty, and I feel a little sorry for someone who gets so little joy from the most basic human pleasure.

Although...she *did* have a boyfriend. She was probably getting a few basic human pleasures that way....


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Watch this space.

I'll get back to The Countdown, but at the moment, I'm up to my ears with a project that's due day-after-tomorrow Friday. I'm stressed. I just found out that I may need to rewrite a hefty chunk of it because a RL location that I *thought* was X in relation to Y may be more like Y in relation to Z. Since they're RL places in a major city, it HAS to be accurate. (Otherwise, I'm sure to have my screw-ups pointed out in countless "helpful" comments. I'd really rather not have that happen, thanks just the same!)

It's true: Virtue IS its own punishment.

Playing catch-up:

1989 stands out as a really good year, also known as "my thin phase". I think I was around 250 at the New Year. That winter, Dr Bizarre and sbjb and I went out to bars to listen to bands a lot, and since I had a closet full of cute new clothes to choose from, getting dressed took ages. I remember in particular a sweater I got at Lerner's. (This was a landmark event, as I'd NEVER been able to fit into anything from them before.) It was a very 80s sweater---white background with a black-diamond pattern (almost an argyle) around the torso with a border print of big red roses. I wore it with stirrup pants and my boots from London.

My 10-year high school reunion was that summer, and I got a terrific dresss for the dinner. It had a fitted waist and handkerchief hem and sleeves, the print was black on ivory with a subtle taupe squiggle. Most exciting: it was a size 12. That is, as near as I can remember, the ONLY time I've ever worn a size 12.

I stuck at 230; I got down to 225 for about five minutes, but it didn't last. Since 225 was where I was at in high school, I tried my prom dress on out of some wild optimism, and discovered that while the numbers were the same, the distribution of pounds wasn't. My boobs were bigger. I about needed a shoehorn to get back out of it.

The party came to a crashing halt in December, though, when Leroy's transmission went out on the way home from a concert in Daytona Beach. Doc and I wound up stranded in Ormond Beach (80 miles from home), in the middle of the night in 50 degree weather in a convertible with indifferent weather-stripping. Kat drove to the rescue and picked us up, sbjb invoked AAA and got Leroy towed a few days later, but I'm a stress eater, and I was stressed. This year, I sampled everything we got in the way of office gifts, and since I was the only one who really liked baklava, I pretty well demolished that single-handedly.

It was nice while it lasted.


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I know I haven't mentioned my weight in a while, but I guaran-damn-ty that it was still an issue, even without Dad there to harp on it. There was that Look I got when I showed interest in a guy---that deer-in-the-headlights look that was followed by "I don't think of you *that* way, I think of you as a really good friend.". Some day, some guy is going to say that to me and I'm gonna snap. (You read it here first.)

I have a memory for weights and dates---270 when Dad died, 295 when I got back from London, and around 318 at the beginning of this time frame. An old friend of S's showed up in early '88---this was sbjb, who was doing OA at the time, and I started going to meetings, although it didn't click for the first few months. After the Steve Riley incident, though, I got religion in a rock and roll way. Got very conscientious about what I ate, exercized constantly, lost weight steadily.

Also early in the year, I got a new job---a good thing, because my funds had run out, and the party was threatening to grind to a halt. This was the answering service job, the one that started me on the career-in-customer-service pathway.

Did I mention there were rock concerts? That spring, I went to one at Watermania, a local water park, in case you couldn't tell from the name. Ted Nugent was the headliner, but I was mostly there for LA Guns---their drummer, Steve Riley, used to be with WASP, who I absolutely adored. I found a way to sneak backstage and met him (and the bass player, Kelly Nickles, who was sooo pretty), and it had a big impact. I have never before or since, been so gung-ho on any diet.

Granted, I was never going to be one of those petite little things who jiggled past with their skirts up to their hoohahs and their tits out to there, but I felt sexy for the first time in my life. By that Christmas, I could actually get into clothes from 'regular' stores---around a size 14/16---and Fashion Bug was getting a lot of my money. It was at this time I learned the difference between "Hey, at least I can get into it" and "It fits.".

That New Year, sbjb and I hung out and had carrots and yogurt-based dip. I was 'good' at work, too: We got lots of edible gifts at the office from our clients, and I noticed something ironic: The doctors sent boxes of candy. The funeral homes sent fruit.


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Summer Bay was a hell of a job. Second shift wasn't micro-managed as much as day shift---management left by five---but they still fucked with us. We had a guy on our shift---I'll call him Ted for privacy purposes---and one Thursday afternoon, Ted quit.

How am I sure, all these years later, that it was a Thursday? Because we got our checks on Thursday nights as we were waiting to check out. Ted and the other shift-boss handed them out around 11:25 as we were hovering around the time clock.

The first shift boss reported them missing, there was a hue and cry, cops came out, searched our belongings and vehicles---no checks to be found. Afterward, the rest of us from 2nd shift were hanging around the break area, and the our shift-boss said he was sure Ted hadn't taken our checks, because he'd seen them in the usual place AFTER Ted had left the building.

"I'll tell you what's going on," I said. "The boss is pissed at Ted for quitting, and now when anyone calls here for references, he can say, 'Oh yeah, the guy quit and our paychecks disappeared with him.'. I'll bet those checks turn up in a few weeks after they've had a chance to fuck with Ted."

And that was exactly what happened.

Oddly enough, late summer is a slow time of year for paper plates---usually we had enough made to anticipate Labor Day orders by the end of July. So, we all got laid off. I canceled a trip to New York that I'd planned, and ended up in Limbo til the New Year (1984).

Just to illustrate how strenuous the Summer Bay job was, within six months of being laid off, I gained 50 pounds. Not a record, but not cool, either.


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The biggest event of my 12th year was predicated on something that happened when I was 11. While Mom was in the hospital, Aunt Mary and Uncle Al were out of town for a while, visiting Aunt Elsie and Uncle Frank, who'd retired to Pompano Beach, Florida. I wasn't a latchkey kid---I didn't get a house key til we moved to this place---so when my dad left for work, I was locked out of the house until he got home in the afternoon.

I could use the facilities at our neighbors---my BF Doris's grandfather lived across the street; she was over there much of the summer, we hung out all the time anyway. One of the places we hung out was Majors, a department store a few blocks away. They had a bakery, and I talked Doris's grandfather into lending me $3. I had cash in my bank at home, I just couldn't get at it, and I wanted donuts. And donuts I got, and Doris and I ate donuts until we bulged.

Unfortunately, Grandpa was a paranoid old fart, and the minute my dad got home from work, he pounced on him and demanded the $3. Which set my dad off, big time. What did I want the money for? he wanted to know. And when he found out, he dragged me inside and made me get on the scale: 130 pounds. Which I don't think is outrageous, as I was about 5'5" at that pooint, but Dad? Was pissed.

Between that and the fact that I gained 40 pounds (but only 2") in the next year---the following summer, they sent me to fat camp. It was near Hawley, Pennsylvania, very pretty country---but to me, it was six weeks of torture.

( Freaking lengthy and not too polite rant under the cut, y'all )
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When I dressed for church this morning, I was feeling festive. I wore a red sweater over my grey boucle skirt...the sweater is a bit less form-fitting than I like, so I belted in the waistline with the Other Black Belt. It was accessorized with a necklace of dyed red coral and black and grey Dalmatian jasper, and...I've had these shoes for a couple of years, at least. They seemed to fit in the store, I got them home, wore them once, was miserable, and they've been drifting around ever since. Today I gave them another chance, because they're red and black tartan and too freakin' cute---and I wore them and didn't even think about them once I got going. It may be that my feet/ankles were swollen the last time I tried them, but hey, it's like getting free cute shoes! The grey skirt definitely didn't fit a year ago, and the belt is wide and black with a big buckle, so it added a Santa-esque note to the ensemble.

Being able to wear things I'd more or less given up on---that's a gift. Feeling comfortable enough to wear a knee-length skirt and a belt at my waist, that's a gift. Having a day of sunshine and friendship and creativity, that's a gift. Woohoo, I'm gifted!

It occurred to me that I didn't mention the "all roads lead to WalMart" experience I had in yesterday/Friday's post. First, I ran into a gal I used to know from the billing service---she wasn't woring there when they closed down, but she'd heard about it. And a little later, much to my delight, I bumped into SpaceCadet, a former UUCC member whom I adore but seldom see.

The first words out of her mouth were, "My God, you've lost weight!". And since it's been over a year since I've seen her, I smiled and agreed. I wasn't even dressed UP...it was icky rainy weather, so I had on my old indestructible denim shirt-dress and the new grey shoes.

Said dress I've had since...good grief, I got it in the fall of 2000. I remember, because I was working at the Dysfunctional Family Business at the time. My coworker loaned me the money to get it from the consignment store I found it at because it was a couple days til payday and she said anything that awesome I should snag immediately and not trust that no one else would buy it in the meantime.

Mind you, I haven't been able to wear it all of that time. From about 2002 til 2005, I couldn't get into it at all. (I blimped up from about 345 to 393---my heighest weight---then took it off when I started writing again. Not overnight, but over the course of about six months of skipping lunch to write, coming home and parking myself in front of the computer to write some more, etc.) I didn't wear it often at my last job, because it's more casual than I usually dressed for that. Yes, it has princess seaming, but still, it's NOT fancy. But for running around on a drippy day, it works well.

Anyway, SpaceCadet and I exchanged email addys and yakked for a bit. She reminds me a lot of my favorite cousin, except that she's less uptight and not Lutheran.

The canasta party was definitely a mixed bag. It ended up being just the four of us: S, her adult daughter J, sbjb and me. We all go back 25 years or more, so it was the kind of familiarity that had us bantering insults, timing jokes for maximum spit takes and considerable off-key singing, much of it mine. (I'm a baritone.)

S stayed awake through it all, which was better than some previous evenings, although her concentration wasn't that hot, and she demonstrated an annoying tendency to mumble things, so if she was more than five feet away, we kept asking, "What?!" I ended up being her partner, and somehow we managed to skunk Team Taurus. (No, I did *NOT* stack the deck.)

Okay, look---I'm not being catty here: S looked like hell. She's five years older than I am, but right now, she looks like Kat (who's 12 years older that she is and dying of lung cancer)---she's shrunken and pale and her arms are covered with bruises. It's alarming. She said to me in as many words that she's addicted to her sleeping pills and whatever else she can coax out of her doctor. She's down to 116 pounds; I'd gotten her a matching shirt and pants in a tropical print for cheap, supposedly a 12/14 in White Stag: They fit her like baggy pajamas. She was talking about all the stuff she can fit into now, but doesn't seem to comprehend that low weight doesn't automatically mean healthy and being able to wear something doesn't necessarily mean it's flattering.

At the end of the evening, S got a wild hair and pulled out a tape meaure and some index cards. We weighed and measured each other and wrote down the results, and S said that in a year we'd see them to see who was healthiest. (I'm going to take it as a good sign that she thinks she'll still be here in a year.) Didn't ask her to quantify her definition of "healthy".

Yes, I'm going to share my info---y'all know I'm not shy about shit like this. S has the same kind of balance scale I do, the kind with big notched blocks for 50-pound increments and a smaller sliding block to count of the individual pounds. On her scale, after four pieces of pizza and 2 liters of diet cola, I was 317 (exactly 201 pounds more than S).

My measurements were:

Bust -- 54"
Underbust -- 47"
Waist -- 51"
Hips -- 60"


That's a good few inches less than the last time I measured---although that's at least two years and 30 pounds ago. Go, me!

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9:45 AM, ETA:

Mind you, this morning on MY scale, I was 310---of course, that was less full and stark naked. (Yes, I also have a balance scale, in fact, it originally belonged to S's mom---I "inherited" it after we cleaned her place out after she died.) I don't usually weigh in shoes, but S said she'd broken a glass recently in her bathroom, so I wasn't taking any chances.

I wonder how little I'd have to weigh for all my numbers to be in the "40s"? It would make buying bras SO much easier!

I'm feeling downright frisky today. Last week, the temps were in the high 80s-low 90s, now it's more like 70-ish, which for me is downright divine! At the same time, the humidity has dropped like a rock, so I've been drinking just as much as when I was sweating my butt off.

Speaking of the lack of butt, yesterday at church I got compliments from all of my cronies as to my weight loss. It's maybe, five pounds since they saw me last, which at my size isn't a vast percentage, IMO. They were all quite firm that it wasn't just what I was wearing (brown tank with brown sequins and bugle beads at the neckline, brown leggings, black flats and a stretchy brown jacket printed with sparkly metallic copper vines and leaves).

Don't get me wrong: I'm working at shaving a few pounds off, and it's nice to get compliments...it just tends to freak me out when people comment on my real or perceived weight loss. A lot of times, I've gotten compliments like that when I *know* I haven't lost weight, to the point that I've developed a theory. I'm tall---5'10"---and I think people "forget", if they haven't seen me in a while, just how tall I am---so when they *do* see me, their minds play tricks---they remember that I'm fat, but because they didn't remember how tall, they're convinced that something is different and that it must me my weight because they know I didn't magically get five inches taller. That's my theory, anyway.

( There's a great deal more...rambling and maybe triggering, I don't know. Read at your own risk. )

Today has been absolutely glorious. I exited my bedroom, and for the first time in months, the temp in the hallway wasn't discernably different than the temp in my room. OFF WITH THE AIR! (Again.) It's cool enough that I might even turn off the ceiling fan---according to my thermometer, it's about 68F in my office right now!

I'm hoping very hard that the weather stays like this for a while. It's nice. I can wear things with sleeves again, oh frabjuous day, calloo, callay! Seriously, I've been OVER summer for months.

Mind you, I wasn't seized by any great burst of energy, I didn't spend four hours cleaning---in fact, I piddled around for a couple hours, then took a nap. And I feel like I'll probably be able to sleep tonight, too. I don't know if I've been overcome by sloth, or if I'm anemic or something...lately, afternoon naps are my friend. This morning, my neck was sore the first time I woke up, but the second time, it was less stiff.

It's tiresome, waking up and feeling like crap all the time. It's true, what they say: Youth is wasted on the young---and growing old is not for sissies.

In the good news department, I'm down a couple more pounds. For the first time in about 20 years, I'm under 310! Woohoo! Applause! Confetti! At this rate, I may manage to start 2010 with a weight beginning with a "2--" yet. Especially if I can get my act together and start the walking regimen ang5fam have been talking about.

I can hardly believe Halloween is just two weeks away! (I suppose it IS about time for the weather to cool off a bit!)

I've felt encouraged by my recent tryings-on. Today I delved into a few other "someday" stashes---I may find good homes for the two white cotton dresses I've been hanging onto (from a giant yard sale haul donated to me by the mother of HWSNBN). After something like seven years, I've managed to get into one of them, but I don't really *like* it, and the other one...I don't know. It has crochetted lace trim and cute mother-of-pearl buttons, and if I keep going I ought to be able to wear it next summer....

Was very happy with The Black Velvet Dress. Mind you, I've had it for ten years this summer---I bought it on clearance when Lane Bryant moved out of our local mall, $19.99, marked down from $119.99---it was snug then, but I could get into it, and the plan was to wear it on New Year's Eve, 1999. That didn't happen. We dined early at a local Italian restaurant with a mutual friend who's since passed away, and ended up ringing in the New Millenium in bed, albeit partying in our own way.

Where was I? Oh, right, The Dress. It's black velvet, nicely contoured, also a halter dress---I really do need to either find my damn corset or acquire a strapless bra!---and a size 26. Today, it fit better than it has since I've owned it, although I really need help getting in and out of it. (I might even be able to sit down in it, but I didn't want to push my luck---or the zipper.) If it weren't for the fact that it's black, I'd liberally apply baby powder, as it was, I stood in front of the a/c and prayed as I tried to get back out of it.

And finally, my little white booties. I remember exactly when I got these---my birthday, 2004. Wore them once, couldn't even last sitting through a church service in them, went home bare-footed and regretfully set them aside. Regretfully, because they are really quite cool. The best way I can describe them is the offspring of an athletic shoe that mated with a granny boot. They're ankle-high, with laces going through antiqued brass d-rings up to a velcro strap (which, with my puffy ankles, is less than fetching). I'm not used to 3" heels, but since I'm carrying at least 25 pounds less than I did then, I'm going to try wearing them while I'm schlepping around the house and try to build up my endurance...because I'm tired of looking longingly at them on the shelf.

I've been losing weight. Haven't wanted to jinx it, but it's starting to make a difference in the clothes I can wear. Woohoo! Last night, I pulled a few things out of my closet and tried them on and was pleasantly surprised. for instance, I have a grey boucle skirt that I got...circa 2003. It was an online purchase that was meant to replace a similar boucle skirt I had that had de-elasticized into a grey sack (albeit a very classy grey sack---it was Liz Claiborne and cashmere---a thrift store find). Unfortunately, the online skirt (neither cashmere nor Claiborne) was snug, not sack-ish, and was several inches shorter. I was never quite comfortable wearing it---but when I tried it on last night, it wasn't snug, and when I wore it to work today, it was perfectly comfortable.

(I wore it with this top, FYI: . Pic is from last year---my hair is shorter---and I hope I don't usually look that goofy. It's something about the way my glasses 'shrink' my eyes....)

Discovered that the short-sleeved khaki jacket I got (also online, about a year ago) buttons nicely and doesn't cut off circulation in my arms anymore, so that will join my fall line-up.

The big disappointment is the black and white polka-dot Curvy Girl halter dress (size 5X in someone else's universe, also acquired online---from this you may scoff to hear that I've usually had very good luck with online clothing purchases). It's still snug. Not as bad as it was a few months ago---18 pounds makes more difference than I thought---and if I lose 10 more and get cinched into my Lane Bryant corset, it might just work. It's deliciously A-line---if could just contrive a crinoline to poof it out a bit! It's got a decided air of the Fifties about it, and with a little floral headband and my Fluevogs? I'd be amazing. (And so modest, right?)

How am I doing it? Soup for dinner most days I work, trying to eat lightly (or not at all) after I get home, not eating like an anaconda when I brunch. With my schedule, I tend toward two meals, brunch and dinner, and I'm trying to be LESS indiscriminate about snacks. Do I still snack? Heck yeah, but I'm trying to pick things like crackers instead of chips and hard candy instead of Oreos. Rome wasn't built in a day.

I'm hoping to get into some kind of exercize routine when the temps go down. There are a few scenic places I can think of, and there's the prosaic Old Faithful, laps around the block.

My goal is simple: I want a weight that begins with a number "2" by the end of this year. (Maybe even by the wedding?) That's *not* unrealistic. It's less than 15 pounds away. Rah, rah, rah, go me!

Oh, and another thing---I won a free pair of Brand X jeans, which are very good jeans, but they do NOT come in size 28/30. I tried to interest various friends in buying these hypothetical jeans from me, no dice. Today I said WTF, I may as well get the highest plus size they have (24) and see if I can get down to that. They're a fit that *should* work for me, with a defined waist and bigger through the hips, bootcut, dark wash...so that's the next goal after breaking the 300-pound mark---to get into those jeans!

The fireworks on the beach were lots of fun. It was supposed to start at 9---it was late---but despite the plethora of electric lights up and down A1A warning that unsanctioned fireworks on the beach could cost a massive fine, there was plenty of amateur activity.

I hung out with T and his brother L---S was out of it---and we watched and schmoozed. S's decline was one topic for discussion---we agree that unless she pulls herself out of it, she probably isn't going to last more than another couple years, if that. I've known her for 25+ years, and I've seen her go to extremes, but this? She's the only one who can save herself, but she's let go and is drifting.

I left the guys to it sometime around 10. Drove back, still plenty of pyrotechnic activity going on alongside the causeways. Stopped by my local WalMart for a couple things and bumped into someone I haven't seen in quite a while---a mutual friends of ours, missybrat---you'll know who I mean when I say he's doing the same thing there that he was when he worked around the corner at WinnDixie. Was much pleased when he said how good I looked---was wearing a tan top with black and white print, brown capris---nothing special---but he commented that I'd lost quite a lot of weight. Considering that when he last saw me I was still with HWSNBN and I weighed around 393, er, yeah. I mentioned this and named numbers, which seemed to surprise him, but they're only numbers---I roll my eyes when I see one of those tabloid covers picking on someone who WEIGHS 200 POUNDS!!. Oh, please. I haven't weighed that since the second Nixon administration!

All was well until I walked up to my front door and saw the dreaded pink tag: My water's been cut off. This is unfortunate, since I seriously need a shower before church tomorrow. Luckily, Kat invited me to come stay with her before I departed with the C's. She took pity because of my lack of a/c, but that plus lack of water? I intend to set an alarm for Very Early tomorrow and see if I can zoom through her shower and still make it to church.

It looks like the coming paycheck is half gone already. Yikes, what a life! But all things considered, I'd rather be me than S.