The side effects

This past week, a friend of ours died. Steve was a fixture at our church and in BSA. He dearly loved my son. He dearly loved me and my husband.

I will miss him for a very long time.

His visiting hours are tonight, and funeral tomorrow. I have known for a while that I need to go buy new clothes, as nothing fits now that my belly doesn't look like I'm 5 months pregnant or more.

I am the queen of procrastination, so I have not gone shopping. A problem is walking and stamina and not having enough strength to get through a store. And I need to go to a store because I have no idea what size I need for clothing, so trying on in person is important.

Going upstairs this afternoon I went through the clothes and drawers and closets. Everything was too big, falling off me big. Size 22 pants that fit me a few years ago weren't even wearable with a belt, or safety pins, or any way. Size 20, slipping off of my hips too.

I realized I didn't have anything smaller.

There was a bag of clothing that ended up in the back porch when we moved in, all earmarked for donation. I ripped into the bag and found a pair of size 18 pants.

They fit, but literally if I lose 5 pounds they will not.

I could, in theory, very soon be fitting into size 16. I haven't worn a size 16 since BEFORE JESSICA WAS BORN in 1992.

The blouse I'm wearing is huge, where it used to cling to my gut.

Right now I'm simply stunned. I can literally go buy off the regular rack in the non-"women's" size section of a store. No more size "1x" or "2x" for me, which is code for 20-22 and 24-26. Because tiny numbers make you feel so much "better" and "normal" about how humongous you've become after 20 years.

I'm kind of stoked.

Now, I just need to get my legs strong enough to go workout again. Hopefully soon.