she takes to her bed fully dressed with offline content downloaded to the laptop & faces the day this way, wearing the size four uncommonly roomy abercrombie & fitch jeans as a reminder they no longer truly fit her they cannot for instance be washed & still worn at this weight they hurt just a bit she will not eat in these pants this is necessary she thinks. it is going to be a long day.
gravity it would seem pulls her down to the car she hasn’t quite unpacked at all she digs through sizes, sixes mostly, some eights. she says to her self honest brutal things fat drunk & stupid is no way to go through life sense of resignation retrieving the size eight express flares she also retrieves the eight pound hand weights hopefully reviewing the calorie intake of her recent foray into drunken numbness figures it at approximately two pounds a week she’s been here (wherever that is) a month now you do the math she resolves it ends here no matter how much it hurts reality that is.
she trudges up the stairs with a load of clothes mostly too small folds the silent rebuke of the size sixes & stacks it neatly in the closet changes into something she thought was a button down cardigan discovers it has only one button admires the way the regained pounds fill out her skin hates the way they spill over the waistband of the uncommonly roomy a&f size fours. she sighs as she peels off the fours & slips into the baggy comfy size eight did i say eight? that was a lie … the size nine express flares & subsequently into the skintight charcoal tshirt she’d rejected earlier for revealing the truth about the uncommonly roomy size four abercrombie & fitch jeans, that is, that they do not fit.
she hates the thoughts she feels studying her (physical) self in the mirror, somewhere between an objective fondness & a desire to hate what she sees in spite of this (where did this come from?) this desire to be punishingly thin.
disclaimer for those unfamilliar with womens’ pantsizes: numbers can’t be used for comparison of actual differences between actual sizes of different brands, but if i’d explained the actual meaning attached to all my different pants & their sizing (& yes, my pants all have meanings) this would have been even more boring, hard to imagine i know, but there it is
post script: the express nines were waaaaay too baggy so i changed into the paris blues nines which fit but are a little on the snug side, no pain though. juuuuuust right, goldilocks.
and all this is just to lay around the house with some downloaded offline content.
i have, like, issues with pants.