“You should wash those pants in really hot water,” she said to me.

The pants in question were covered in dog hair – like, shaggy Austin Powers groovy pants covered – so I thought this was a comment on my general hygiene. But then my sister-in-law went on.

“Then put them in the dryer. See if you can get them to shrink up.”

It’s true, my staple black trousers (I have three identical pairs) would fall off me if I took the belt away (a little shimmy and it’s moon over Miami), but I’ve been here before. You don’t trust that the loose clothes are going to STAY loose.

“But then what would I wear when I got fat again,” I asked.

And then I had to stop… because… Yes, I’m daring to admit that I’m so much of a fool that I believe, AGAIN, that the weight I’m losing might stay lost. Maybe I’ll never need a size 22W pair of pants again. Do I dare believe it?



I don’t know.

I’m not going to boil my pants anyway (although I might take a curry comb to them, like a shedding horse)… but I think I might venture forth to the mall and see if a size 18 wasn’t a better fit…

Trust. When do you decide to do it, and when do you let cruel experience be your guide?

I’m off to work out with Barbara and then Chad. That’s Body Dynamics in Falls Church, Virginia, children. They’re changing my life. More later!


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