There are many things I can’t resist – a warm loaf of whole wheat bread fresh out of the breadmaker, cinnamon Spelnda apple muffins, and chocolate pudding with a dollop of Cool Whip on top (note: it must be referred to as a dollop, not a scoop or spoonful but a dollop, because “dollop” is a fun word to say). But all of these stand no match to my one true love – coupons! Free money sent to me in the mail. It’s like counterfeiting, but legal.
Now that I’ve moved out on my own and savor every penny (even the gross ones covered in green gunk), my love of coupons has grown to new heights. I’ve been laying out buying strategies more complex than Napoleon’s attack on Waterloo. If I combine the 20% Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon with my Discover Card cashback gift cards during the week the George Foreman grill is on sale, I’ll only pay $0.89! After Kroger’s five for $10 sale on Lean Cuisines, I now have enough TV dinners in my freezer to literally last me a month. I’m so totally ready for the apocalypse! Assuming it’s an apocalypse in which the electricity doesn’t got out and my freezer and microwave still work. Though I was seriously bummed this week when I saw Meijer had them at five for $9. D’oh!
I think the only thing better than getting a great deal is bragging about what a great deal you got. I’d guess this is one of the major differences between the middle class and upper class. Middle class people like to brag about how cheap they got something for, whereas upper class people like to brag about how much money they spent on something, like their yacht or their summer home in the Hamptons.
So, while I haven’t stepped foot in a Lane Bryant for many, many months, when they sent me the $15 off a $15 or more purchase coupon in my e-mail, how could I not go? By the way, if you are a fat girl and not on the Lane Bryant mailing list, go to their web site and sign up now! I would dare not step foot in that store without one of their $25 off a $75 purchase coupons they send out about once a month. It’s just too damn expensive otherwise.
It’s a bit odd shopping at Lane Bryant these days because their tops are all too big for me. So I have to restrict myself just to shopping jeans, pants, skirts or belts. I decided to get a new pair of jeans and lo and behold, I now fit into a pair of size 18 stretch denim jeans! I haven’t been a size 18 since before I was 18. For much of my life my jeans size has quickly outpaced the number of years I’d spent on this earth. Also, why is it a “pair” of jeans where there is only one?
Shifting down to a lower jeans size is always fun, like watching a car odometer roll over to the next group of 10,000, which I don’t even get to do anymore since my odometer is digital. Damn you technology! You’d think they could at least program it to display some sort of celebratory message, or at least a dancing bear, but no. Just another number. Whenever I roll down to a new jean size, I always end up asking myself “Are they supposed to be this tight?” I think when I was fat I got used to wearing looser, baggier clothing in a silly attempt to hide my size, when that really just makes you look bigger. Also, when you get to a point where you need to go down a size, your old jeans are going to be a bit loose anyway, so I’m always a little surprised that the new pair of jeans fits so closely.
Some of you might be surprised that my jeans size is so big since most 5’9″ women who weigh 212 pounds would probably be in a size 16 or 14 by now. I blame this on the fact that I have no breasts. All the fat is in my belly, butt and thighs, thus I wear big pants, but my dress size is much smaller, probably a 12 by now, though I have not confirmed that. I think the distribution of my fat maximizes my jean size to its greatest potential, but it also gives me a flattering hip-to-waist ratio, so it’s not all bad.
Perhaps the saddest thing about my weight loss is that I’m starting to discover how small my boobs actually are. Before this is over, I’m going to have to file a report at the missing ta-ta’s department. For the most part I’ve come to like having small breasts. They don’t get in the way of execise, I have no problems finding a sports bra, I wear button down shirts with ease and I’ve never had back problems. However, I’ve never been able to find a bra with a large band size and a small cup size anywhere but online. And I always felt a bit gypped that even when I was enormously fat I couldn’t say “Well at least I have better breasts than the thin chicks!” because I didn’t. Maybe if you had taken my breasts and put them on a thin chick they would have been big, but ew, gross. So, I’m fine with my small breasts, but if I one day woke up as a B-cup you wouldn’t find me bitching either, especially if you took it out of my ass, which I’m sure they can do these days.