Blue Jeans Showdown

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Haven’t been wearing my jeans because it’s summer and why would I…

BUT I decided I needed to find them to see how much weight I’ve gained back after my last couple months of “Ah fuck it, I’ll eat cheeseburgers and be ‘good’ when I can”.

Jeans are very unforgiving, unlike the summer dresses I usually live in that people think I’m wearing to be fancy, but I’m merely wearing because they’re cooler and they don’t have a constricting waistband. Delightful.

Finally found the size 16 version of the jeans I have in every size from 12 (that’s about my smallest ever I’ll be) to 20 (I’d LIKE not to be back there, but I have met me and know my range).

You see, I finally realized a little while back that I don’t have a set weight…just don’t. And that’s life. Mine anyway.

I feel pretty good in this size, and even better at 14. And, let’s be real, these are “Women’s size” 16s and 14s. Those are a different animal than “Misses” or “Juniors” because the fashion industry is a mindfuck .

And, while it used to be an “aesthetics” thing, it’s truly a comfort thing. I’m short waisted, big boobed, and not model-tall. All my weight ends up just plain in-my-fucking-way. Won’t lie, I think I’m a little sexier at a 12-14, but this bod has been a sexual hurricane (nice way to say lord I was a sluuuuuuut and proud of that shit) at an 18-20+. I don’t care how they package “Fat Monica” from the “Friends”, fat girls like to fuck, dudes do, in fact, like to fuck fat women, and Fat Monica’s issues, if she was a real person, were more that she was a fucking goon than that she was “ungodly fat”.

So, yeah, I usually try to remain at a certain size, but, again, I’ve met me, and I don’t “settle down” well. That used to be a very across the board description of me, but now it’s just my pant-size that’s promiscuous as fuck. 😉

And, because of that, I keep that range of pants – the exact same pants that fit my ever changing but always about the same “shape” bod in all the sizes. I no longer throw out the “skinny” sizes in frustration, no longer throw out the “fat” sizes in triumph because that’s stupid and it’s dumb to have to re-purchase a wardrobe because you fluctuate.

I still mourn some of the really fucking cute “fat” dresses I threw out in 2010 because I stupidly thought I had “won”. All I ended up winning was a temporarily smaller body and being broke because I needed to buy new clothes when I my body expanded again.

So I found the jeans…we had a stare-down – my jeans actually stared at me, you guys, it’s like they were challenging me.

Well, they fit. Which means I’ve SOMEHOW only put on, let’s say, 5-7 pounds in the last month or so, which honestly…ok, not sure how because I have been fucking EATING THE PLANET, but I’ve also tried to temper it here and there. That and I’m a little more active again. Or I have a moderately lazy tapeworm. I’m fine with whatever.

So yeah. I “win”. Not at anything really, there is no “winning weight” or “winning size”. But I win at stuffing myself in to these jeans and not having to dig out the 18s, and I win because I’m gonna go reward my face with a cheeseburger now.

VICTORY!

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