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I had an event this weekend that required I wear something other than yoga pants and my Arizona Wildcats hockey sweatshirt. (Am not a hockey fan, per se; rather, I’m a VINTAGE HOCKEY SWEATSHIRT fan.)

Anyway, I had to get dressed up for the first time since the fateful Achilles-rupturing opera in January and I discovered – for the first time ever – I’m not fat enough for most of my clothes any more.

This is a GOOD problem to have, but a problem nonetheless.

Fortunately, I was headed to my friend Stacey’s house and she’s lost even more weight than I have. She set me up with so many cute things, from dresses to jeans to a peony-colored trench coat that makes my heart leap. She said she learned to not hold on to bigger items because that subconsciously sends the message that she expects to gain back the weight. She said, “See you in hell, plus-size safety net!” and happily gave me everything.

Thanks to her generosity, I have enough supplemental pieces that now I can clean out my own closet and donate what doesn’t fit. Everybody wins!

However, since I’m new to this whole “successful weight loss” business, I didn’t realize being less fat would impact ALL of my parts. A while back, I replaced my bras because things were rolling around in my old foundation garments like a couple of watermelons in the trunk of a Toyota.

This morning I noticed that my underpants fit like a saggy swim diaper that leaks, so I put those on my list, too. I’ve been wearing the same style of Jockey for Her for the past twenty-five years, so I know exactly what to buy and where to buy it. But when I sat down at my desk to order them earlier, I realized I had no idea what size I’d previously bought.

Without a second thought, I rose, dropped trou, and bent over to check the size. As I stood there hunkered down with my pants around my knees, twisting and squinting to read the tiny print on the label, Fletch materialized in my office door. He took one look at me and my twin full (but waning) moons and simply said, “Nope,” before scurrying away.

I guess my point is this – please consider pre-ordering the new I Regret Nothing memoir (out May 5th) or the Best of Enemies novel (out August 4th) because I am clearly no longer capable of working an office job with other sentient beings.

FYI, the smaller underpants were on sale.

She shoots, she scores!

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