I am still in the middle of it. I am on the verge of tears, or crying, or bravely Not Crying, or blinking back Tears That Aren’t There.
I have no idea what is going on, all I know is I am losing my mind.
I was at the fancy mall returning a pair of fab gold peep toe flats I bought at Ann Taylor about 10 days ago. They were very chic, but I do not need Very Chic. I need Chic, and it did not suck to get back the $40. I tried some things on, since they were having a 60% off sale (still) and I stole some items when my mother was visiting (seriously great skirts and dresses and shirts).
I realized I am no longer a 4. I’ve lost 9 pounds since last Monday (water, obviously) and my 4s are a little big. I am really a 4p or a 2. I have not been clothes shopping at this smaller size. Period.
Here is where the crisis begins. I am in the dressing room, trying on my size 2 jeans and I think: “I look really hippy in these.”
Logically, I Am Wearing Size 2 Jeans.
No matter how wide and hip-py I look, I Am Wearing Size 2 Jeans.
So, then it hits me . . . there is something else happening here. It’s not about the jeans. It’s not about my body. It’s about my life.
I am unbalanced right now. I am glitching everywhere. I cried while watching the soccer game with my friends. It’s bad.