fuck you, cyber monday.

Despite having spent well over $100 at Sam's Club for groceries yesterday, there was slim pickings when it came to packing food for work aujourd'hui. But first, let's rewind:

Thanksgiving was a shit show. Lots of turkey and gravy and rolls (not even wheat, just plain white), and PIE. Bloody fucking pie. I can't ever say no to pumpkin pie with a generous heaping of whipped cream. The closest thing I got to fruit all weekend was cranberry from a can, and in the four days I was at home I managed to convince myself that mashed potatoes count for veggies.

WRECK.

I haven't weighed myself, but my boyfriend says that I didn't really eat that much. I feel like I did, but in retrospect there wasn't ever a time when I felt stuffed so maybe I really did succeed in skirting my appetite.

Hokay, so. Today for breakfast I had a bowl of Life cereal with 1 cup of skim milk and a banana to go with the Diamox. I had 20 ounces of homemade masala chai with a splash of skim and a dash of real sugar. For lunch I had a pbj sandwich on wheat, 1 cup of frozen blueberries, and I'm trying to convince myself to eat the dried cranberries I packed although that's proving to be quite a challenge.

I desperately wanted some celery, but that's just not in the cards until I can get to the grocery store later today. I'm probably dehydrated too, which was a very rude thing to have to realize at 3am when I was dead asleep. I feel like my digestive system is backed up because I've been doing things so out of the ordinary and there doesn't seem to be much room left for water.

I haven't worked out since last Tuesday. I am seriously, lustingly, desperately looking forward to pounding out all my frustrations on the elliptical in a few hours. CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH.



In other worldly news, I organized my closet last night! My family is trying something different for Christmas gifts this year and mommy let me use her credit card to pick my gifts myself. I couldn't resist Old Navy's Black Friday deals so I had a field day ordering new winter clothes. When I got back into town last night, I took to unpacking which inspired me to reorganize my closet in anticipation for my shipment of new clothes (in reality, I ran out of hangers and I had to make more room). Long story short, I spent the better part of the evening rediscovering my wardrobe.

It was bittersweet getting to see what I had grown out of taste-wise and width-wise. My exceptionally good memory makes it almost impossible for me to forget details such as where I bought a piece of clothing, how much it cost, who was with me when I got it, and the like. I struggled tossing out the things that my mom bought for me, I had no problems parting ways with the things gifted to me by my sister, and there were a few problem items in between.

What do you do with the sweater you lost your virginity in? Especially if your current boyfriend wasn't the one (ha). And the first date dresses? How about the pants you wore to your friend's funeral? The shirt you pitched a fit over because you just HAD TO have it, even at full price... what if it's horribly out of style now, but you know your parents sacrificed a week of their financial comfort in order to buy the things you just had to have?

Tough decisions, all around.

The hardest part of this exercise was two-fold: firstly, seeing all the cute clothes that I USED to fit into that are indeed very much still cute and very much not going to fit over my now-heavier frame; and secondly, the panties.

I've been hoarding clothes over the last three years while operating under the delusion that I'll lose the weight next week, errr... month. At first it was five pounds and I swore to myself I would eat good the next week; then it was ten pounds and I swore to myself I would start running; at twenty pounds I swore to myself I would join a gym once I had the money; before I knew it, I was at 50 and at that point I had already learned to manage with what I had. But in the back of my mind, I was still going to start eating better and go jogging and join a gym... next week. So there was never any need to throw out the clothes that didn't fit, because I was going to start losing weight... next week. Now I have a wardrobe that consists of a series of stages: things I wore at 220 pounds, hazy crossover area, then 240-255, hazy crossover area, then 270-297 pounds. Obviously, I'm in the last stage which is coincidentally the smallest (and saddest).

When going through each item in my closet, there were the things I would never wear again that got donated, the things I wished I could wear but don't fit that got pushed to the back until a skinnier time, the things that fit now but I don't especially like that are taking up room in the middle for the days that I'm low on fresh laundry, and my favorite items that fit now got the prime real estate in the front. That was all well and good, I was always aware of what percentage of my wardrobe was in operation, but it certainly did me some good to remember how great I looked in that sweater that's two sizes smaller than what I wear now.

And then the panty drawer came out to play. Up until this point, I had been conducting myself alone in silence with the bedroom door closed. I think my boyfriend has panty sensors because he walked in just as I started sorting my intimates. I made several piles as I sorted and folded, but it was mainly divisive between panties I can wear now and panties I hope to wear soon. Of course, boyfriend was mesmerized by the hope-to-wear category. "OOH you should wear those, OOH you should wear those...!" Naturally, it was heartbreaking to have to remind him (and myself) that I'm still carrying too much weight for the hope-to-wear category to be a viable option anytime soon.

But I'm hopeful and excited to rediscover the awesomeness waiting for my in my closet! It's better than shopping, because this stuff is already paid for. Not to mention, it'll be like having TWO wardrobes because the stuff I wear now will certainly still fit (maybe with modifications) in the future to mix and match in ways I never dreamed possible.

If nothing else, I at least have a really clean closet now. A bientôt.