I had my period the other week. (Yep, now that I am no longer trying to have babies, I'm menstruating like clockwork. Granted, a clock that only strikes midnight once every three months, but still, excuse me? Irony is much more interesting in someone else's life, OK?)
Anyway. Digressing, digressing.
The point is that all of a sudden my clothes started getting tight. Not just the clothes that I have dieted my way down to, oh no. No, my old clothes, my fat clothes, got tight on me.
And I'd been feeling so good, too. I'd lie on my bed, reading a book, enjoying my snack of 20 small peanuts, feeling the fat melting away from my hips, but not feeling hungry, glorying in the thought of all the cute new clothes I'd be able to buy once I was down to my target weight. And then, to find out that I'd somehow put all the weight back on!
It's been so long since I was an active member of the regular cycle club that I don't automatically think about the obvious culprit when the unexpected happens. I'm silly enough to think that a bad mood is caused by the people around really being idiots, for instance. Which is why I didn't put it together until this morning, when I went to put on my fat jeans and found that they were so loose on me I could have put them on without unsnapping them first.
Unfortunately, Halloween had come and gone. And I bought Mary Jane peanut butter candies to hand out. Guess what my favorite candy is? I think I ate half a bag in the middle of my misery and despair.
Evil, evil bloat.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I always use PMS bloat as an excuse to eat whatever I want. Like the retained water, when it leaves, is going to wash away half a pound of M&Ms. Right.
Hey, welcome back.
Post a Comment