Well, no change on weigh-day. I knew it, although I’d hoped for different results. I have to admit that every evening last wek, I had wine with dinner. Sometimes two glasses. For some reason, I craved pasta so we had penne with alfredo sauce one night and crab meat quiche made with sauteed onions, four eggs and a cup of whipping cream another night and for leftover lunches the past two days.
But after my haircut today (it made me feel thinner and taller), I dropped by the mall and tried to rack up some steps (my friend Janis swears by early-morning mall-walking as a way to burn off the calories). Sears had a 40% sale off swimsuits so I picked up half a dozen in my size (!) and tucked myself into the dressing room to try them on.
Taking off my coat, scarf, jeans, sweater and jewellery was a pain in the butt. The change room was the size of a jail cell but the display lights were bright enough to grow plants in. The mirrors covered one wall, so there was no hiding from the full frontal shock of each selection. Black was boring, but it’s supposed to make you look slimmer – which is a foul lie. If the suit is unsuitable, the colour doesn’t matter a damn. I tried on a couple of brightly coloured models, one in fuchsia and one in red. The red reminded me of Esther Williams, the swimming movie star – all 40s ruching along the bodice and side seams. My goodness, but as attractive as the colour was on me, my left breast resembled a pot roast still confined in the styrofoam packaging. Not a good look, for sure. My lord, but all of my self esteem plunged into the floor as I tried to stand up straight and suck in the wobbly bits. Thank goodness I’ve learned to draft and sew trousers for my own unique body. Otherwise, I’d be beyond frustrated about not buying new clothes for spring.
So much for feeling like I’d made progress. Ten pounds is nothing…still a long way to go, dammit.