There's a Party in My Pants

I went on a little pants-buying spree at Filene's Basement tonight to buy myself some new stuff that actually fits me. (Side note: Whoever Filene is, she is a saint because her Basement is full of amazing bargains.) I've lost 24 pounds now, and the pants that fit me when I was heavier look terrible on me now. I was wearing a pair of khakis today, and when I caught a glimpse of myself from the rear, I noticed my ass looked like something from IHOP. And by that, I do not mean it looked rooty-tooty, fresh and fruity. I mean that it looked like a pancake.

I realize that the musician in charge of the world's smallest violin is playing right now as I'm complaining that I'm just swimming in all my clothes. However, I'm kind of at a weird juncture in my weight loss because I've lost a significant enough amount that my old clothes make me look frumpy-dumpy but I still have more to lose, so I don't want to spend a shit-ton of money on new stuff (thus, Filene's Basement). I think it's important to buy new clothes to show off the new shape I've worked so hard to attain because it gives me encouragement to continue in this positive vein. Also, it would be massively unfair to be eating diet-type food and yet looking worse than I did when I was eating a steady diet of butter sticks and bacon grease because I'm wearing bag lady-sized clothes.

So, I bought two new pairs of work pants and three pairs of jeans. Two of the pairs were from Seven, a brand I have never before worn, and I was able to buy the jeans TWO (yes, two) sizes smaller than I wore when I started Weight Watchers. Frankly, had the jeans cost $700 a pair, I would have bought them, and it was just my good luck that they were reasonably-priced.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman

I am glad I decided to join Weight Watchers. In total, I've lost 22 pounds (at least since I bought my scale, which was two weeks after I started, so I have probably lost more than that). I have more energy than I used to, which is probably some combination of being physically lighter and feeling better about myself (or, you might say, being mentally lighter). On the weekends, I actually take the trouble to put on something halfway decent to wear instead of yoga pants. I'm not even really attracted to bad food anymore because I am seeing how much better being thin feels than eating the bad food feels. So, yay!

If I Call You, Don't Make a Fuss, Don't Tell Your Friends About the Two of Us

Snowflake is officially a fuckwad. I thought he might contact me either to apologize for not returning my call or suggest alternate plans or both, but he didn't. I felt stupid, but as my mom pointed out, you can't assume people are lying every time they say something, at least until they prove themselves untrustworthy.

20 Years of Snow Falling...20 Years of Strangers Looking Into Each Other's Eyes

So, of course Snowflake acted like a jerk today. That must be Rule #1 in the manual The Only Living Boy in New York hands out at his Mixed Messages seminars. I got one joking email from him this morning, which was directed to two of our other friends at work as well as me. A little after two, I decided to call him (since he really isn't so great with email), and he said that he might have to get on a conference call between then and three, but he would call me back. For the record, his stupid ass must still be on that conference call because I haven't heard from him. Jerkwad.

Skinny Bitch

I have now lost 22 pounds! I am very proud of myself.

The cute guy from work (who probably ought to get a blog name, so I'll call him Snowflake) and I got a cookie together yesterday (he paid), which cost me a few Weight Watchers points but was worth it for the delicious treat and company. There was definite flirting, and we went for a little walk together and he stood so close to me that I was thinking, "Leave room for the holy spirit! Not." Today, we talked on the phone, and there was discussion of getting a cookie again tomorrow so I can treat him this time. I don't know if it will really happen, and I don't want to get my hopes up since Snowflake seems to have attended The Only Living Boy in New York's award-winning seminar on sending mixed signals, but we shall see. We're going to have to start making out soon so that at least if I'm cramming high-calories snacks into my maw, I can be counterbalancing it with the earning of activity points.

New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

I miss The Only Living Boy in New York. I miss him so much that I think he can probably feel it all the way in his city.

It has been almost two and a half months since we last spoke, and I think I'm growing less okay with it as time passes. At first, I felt the triumph of standing up for myself, and I kept myself busy with self-improvement. Now, I'm twenty pounds lighter, and I feel an empty space in my life where he used to be. I miss telling him things. I miss his opinion. I miss his sense of humor.

I don't miss feeling crushed every day that he didn't finally tell me that he broke up with his girlfriend and realized he was in love with me. I don't miss feeling misled or led on. I don't miss his indecision or being his emotional crutch.

It's not that I think I made the wrong decision in distancing myself from him. It's just that it's hard to be away from him because I really cared about him a lot, and I miss him so much more than I thought I would. I think about things like whether he misses me too.

I know that all I can do is move forward. There's very little chance that he misses me enough or cares about me in the right way to reach out to me and tell me the things I want him to say, but the only chance that that will happens is if I maintain my distance and make him come to me. I've always gone to him, and I shouldn't have made things so easy for him. I let myself get too committed to him without requiring the same commitment from him in return. I just miss him though. I wish I could talk to him again.

One on One, I Want to Play My Game Tonight

The cute guy at work has become a real thorn in my paw. Today, I had to talk to someone two doors down from his office, so I stopped by to chat with him for awhile. Later, we talked on the phone, and there was a lot of flirting and giggling. So, I thought that it might be okay to suggest, when we were emailing in the late afternoon, getting food together sometime soon. After all, we've gotten food together once before, and he acted like he might be interested in getting to know me better. His response to my suggestion made it clear that he would be okay with doing that as long as it was a group thing -- in other words, he doesn't want to spend time with me one-on-one. Jackass. Why did you call me and flirt then? Idiot.