Today's blog picture is to show you exactly how much fabric I removed from my good navy pants, which I just took in by several inches.
(I can't remember if I ever answered the question that probably many of you are asking: Why don't I just buy new pants? Answer: I really hate shopping for clothes, particularly pants. This has always been the case, even when I was technically thin [though I've always been a big girl — tall, hippy, busty, with hearty thighs]. Some time ago I was courting a new potential girlfriend, and I suggested meeting for a drink after work. She said, "I don't really drink, want to just have dinner?" I thought, Hmm, but said sure, and then she said, "Actually, I need to buy some new underwear; want to go shopping with me, and we'll have dinner after?" and there I drew my line. The only thing I dislike more than clothes-shopping for myself is clothes-shopping with and for someone else. I know, it's so unwomanish. What can I say.)
(And isn't it weird to invite someone you don't know that well yet to go underwear shopping with you? That was my second Hmm. We did end up having dinner that night [she postponed her shopping], and later she brought Dexter, my most beloved cat of all time, into my life, and I will always be grateful to her for that, but otherwise she was pretty much a nightmare of crazy. I should've gone with my first instincts.)
The pants now fit snugly around my waist and won't fall down any more. I am happy happy happy!
No new weight loss to report, but my glorious Thanksgiving gluttony only resulted in a gain of one pound! (Well, now that the dust has settled — my weight was certainly up the next day. Sodium, I think. And lots of alcohol.) And today I will take a walk and do all my weight work and eat lightly and healthfully, and I bet I'll be back to my new normal tomorrow.
Yesterday Husband and Mimosa and I saw Lincoln (AMAZING) and then Mimosa and I met up with Brunie and saw The Silver Linings Playbook, which was fantastic. Coming up: Brunie and I plan to see The Sessions on Wednesday, and maybe I'll see Flight next weekend. So many good movies out!! And I was very disciplined and ate nothing at Movie 1 and only a blue Slushee at Movie 2, and I tried very very hard not to pick at my cuticles, though I succumbed a little bit in Movie 2 (just one finger). But usually my hands are in shreds after movies (I know! It is a terrible disgusting habit. I truly do know this), so I'm calling this one a victory.
Since I saw the dermatologist I've been applying four different creams and unguents to my various afflicted areas, on top of my nightly lotion application to hands, heels, and elbows; I am a giant human-shaped glob of lubricant. But it's working! My hands look way better, the only remotely inflamed area is the above-mentioned finger, and my other various itchy places are smooth and pink, and my three pre-cancerous frozen spots simply look like small red circles on my face, not the giant blisters I'd been fearing, and the possibly cancerous divot on my nose is practically healed. In other words, I am 95 percent pretty Lady, 5 percent Quasimodo, and that ain't bad.
(Alternate title for the above paragraph: "Drugs Are GOOD.")
I'm proud of myself for keeping 40 pounds off, and maybe that's the best I can hope for during the holiday season. If I don't gain any new weight between now and January 1, I will call it a victory. If I do manage to lose more weight, I will call it a double secret probation victory! We shall see. The dreaded Hood eggnog has yet to appear (I hold off until December); as pecan pie is to Thanksgiving, Hood eggnog is to Christmas, and they are both Kryptonite to me.
But I just read a sentence that I am completely totally in love with:
"Never grow a wishbone where your backbone ought to be."
—Clementime Paddleford ("the Nellie Bly of culinary journalism")*
Isn't that awesome?! I find myself whispering "backbone, backbone" when I need a mini pep talk. It has replaced "In general, there's a lot less eating" as my new watchword.
OK, enough for now. Husband and I are blowing off church (we both woke up with headaches; I got out of bed to have coffee and begin a day of Healthy Living and Useful Work, and he went back to sleep — potato, potahto), so I need to redeem my heathenish ways by doing something good for the world. Besides blogging.
Happy National Parfait Day! (I kid you not.) Please celebrate wisely and appropriately.
* If this gets you to look up Nellie Bly as well, I've done one good deed today. Nellie Bly rocked, and it kills me that she's not better known.
p.s. It occurs to me that there are two Animal House references in this blog post, though one is so obscure I will just tell you: Bruce McGill, who played D-Day in Animal House, had the important role of Edwin Stanton, Lincoln's Secretary of War, in Lincoln. Who'da thunk it, back in the day?
I'm guessing you can find the other reference without my help. And if you can't, you are no student of serious film. Go watch Animal House and then read Nellie Bly, Reporter by Nina Brown Baker. That's a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon! Football, shmootball.