Weighed in this morning. 166. Down 22 pounds for sure. Then I spent over an hour trying on everything, and I do mean everything, in my closet.
It very nearly all fits.
Most of the stuff I thought was 10s are 11/12s, which are a little snug still. One of my two favorite dresses ever won’t yet zip up, but I think it actually *is* a ten. My other favorite dress (the green one you made me, Mom) fits very nicely. My *wedding dress* fits. My pinstriped grey suit is still too snug, but it’s wearable. So is the thigh-length fitted red blazer that I bought eight years ago. And the teeny black leather miniskirt that my friend Liz bought me a decade ago so I’d stop borrowing *hers* fits. The schoolmarmish dress doesn’t yet quite fit, but I think it’s a ten, too. The red fuzzy somebody in Ted’s family gave me for Christmas several years ago which has never before fit, fits.
A pile of genuinely nice stuff will be going to Goodwill, because it’s *too big*.
I feel quite a lot better now. I still have nowhere to *wear* all that good stuff (I can’t even tell if the annual writer’s conference in Anchorage is *happening* this year), because most of it really is too nice to wear around the house (pinstripe suits? I mean, c’mon), but I feel better.
I’m going to go through and get rid of a bunch of t-shirts, too, assuming I can avoid the sentimental value trap thing, and then I’m going to go buy myself some cute new shirts and revel in them.
(Also, my grandma is doing much much better this morning. Hooray!)