Kids. They ruin your life and they ruin your clothes. (I'm kidding about some of this.)
Got home from dinner last night and my shorts (Shorts! In mid-October!) looked like one leg had contracted leprosy. P.S. - be very careful when letting your growing and clumsy year-old eat crab. A plastic ramekin filled with butter and bits of crab and do a number on cotton.
My clothes weren't the only casualty here — sharing the damage was kiddo's brand new RED pants, which had never been washed.
My shorts are buttery toast for sure. If the butter stains don't kill them, the red dye from kiddo's pants will.
So in my search for replacement pants, I got brave enough to open the trash bag I'd marked "TOO SMALL" in early September. I withdrew my only other pair of olive green shorts — waist size 36.
With trepidation, I slid the shorts up my legs.
I was happy to feel them slide over my hips.
And I was shocked to actually fasten them at my waist.
They're on.
— They're not happy, but they're on.
THEY'RE ON. The last time I successfully buttoned these was probably back when I was on Atkins for a year, and was KILLING IT in the 220's. That was late 2012. The lowest I got on that diet was 216 lbs — and that was just before LD suggested I "take a couple of weeks off for the holidays."
They're off. I took them off because I want to be comfortable while working today.
But the grin is still on.
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