Today I tackled a few mending projects I had waiting in the wings.  Three skirts, to be exact.  Two were too large, but I wanted to salvage them, and one just needed the liner to be shortened a bit (why oh why is that necessary–it should be made better in the first place).

So I went through all this effort with my most favourite of the skirts, a brown one I got years ago on a day trip with friends.  I did a fantastic job, but you know what?  I don’t think it’s going to fit right after all.  And so now I am sad.  (See my sad face?)   [Amendment: After being washed, the skirt hangs perfectly!  And you can’t even tell I altered it, since I did such a kick-ass job.  See my happy face?]

I also bought a pair of shorts for summer.  And they are size 8.  Yes, my friends, it’s true.  I can, on occasion, wear size 8 now.  God it feels great to have lost weight.

However, I have had a few people say to me to not get too skinny.  Can I first say that I have never been too skinny in my life, and it might be kind of nice to have that problem?  Regardless, I still feel huge.  I look in the mirror or at my body, and I don’t see svelteness, but softness.  Blast.  (Please don’t tell me I should just work out more.  First, I can’t afford the gym. Second, I hate running.  Third, you never get all that great looking from just brisk walking.  When I move out, I plan to do more exercise videos in the privacy of my own space… yoga, pilates, that sort of thing.)


Last week, week four of work, was great work-wise.  But my introverted soul needed to be fed with more alone time than I was able to give it.  And that made the week hard.  I’m also wrestling with (and/or ignoring?) all kinds of real-life questions, and those take their toll.