As I was shivering in my short-sleeved hoodie and tank top after the Ani DiFranco concert last week, it occurred to me, “Hey, the seasons are changing, you dumbass. Next time bring a sweatshirt!” My approach to choosing my clothes is to assume that today will be the same temperature as yesterday, which makes no sense because if that were true there would be no seasons. I must think I live on the equator.

The changing seasons mean a lot for my weight loss. I’m going to have to buy a whole new winter wardrobe, again, for the third year in a row. Yeah, this is the part where I send out engraved invitations to my pity party and no one RSVP’s. “Ooooh, that’s so horrible, PastaQueen. You’re so small you have to buy new sweaters. We feel so, so, terrible for you.” I know, it’s a good problem to have, but it’s still a problem. I still mourn the loss of my fuzzy brown extra large sweater. It was so soft and flattering of my [...]

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Back when I was fat I used to lament the fact that I would always have to eat. Smokers could throw out all their cigarettes and alcoholics could empty their liquor cabinets, but I was always going to have to eat. It didn’t seem fair at all. Giving up the source of my problem seemed a lot better than trying to manage it.

Now that I’ve got my eating under control, I’ve realized I’ve got it so much better than the reformed crack whores and nicotine addicts of the world. I still get to eat! Recovering alcoholics can’t even go to a wine tasting, but if I decided I’d really like to eat half a pumpkin pie covered in whipped cream, I can still do that.

Sometimes though, I make dangerous food discoveries. When I made my vagina muff-ins I discovered a low-calorie, low-carb fruit spread that was delicious. I bought a couple jars in different flavors to eat on the bread I bake every other weekend. Funny how I ended up eating most of it off [...]

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