Last year when I met MrS I was a size 10. I was a regular gym goer but, if I’m honest, I had also stopped eating properly because of how unhappy I was.
I couldn’t keep up the gym membership after Christmas because I couldn’t afford it. I wasn’t using it enough anyway especially as I was spending weekends here.
Apparently I have now put on what my friend Hot Tub Helen calls my “happy stone”.
So now I am a whopping size 12. I know I know. Size 12 is not whopping. However I am only 5’ 2” so it is curvy. Anyway, either way I am bigger than I was.
I perhaps wouldn’t mind this so much if it wasn’t for The Red Coat. It was the first thing I crossed off my Fuckit List. It is a thing of beauty, a symbol of my new life and brought me such joy. I first wore it on my first date with MrS and when I look at it now it always, always makes me smile. But now it no longer fits.
I *could* buy a new red coat (I’ve even looked, but I can’t find one as nice). But it won’t be the same. I don’t think I’m cut out to maintain a size 10 but I remember the way that coat makes me feel and I WANT to fit into it again. Today I turned down free cake because I thought of that red coat. I think I can keep that up, it’s worth a try