The World As Mare Sees It...
Progress 2007-06-17

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Just so we�re clear, just because I believe in being honest, just because if I don�t say it, it may not be true in a day or so, it�s not a full ten pounds.

It�s not quite a bag of flour, or a bag of potatoes or your incredibly large infant. It�s not my cat. It�s not quite the difference between one dress size and another. It is not ten pounds. But it is 9.8 pounds and I had it seven weeks ago, and I don�t have anymore.

Let�s rewind six months, shall we? I spent New Year�s Eve in North Carolina, at a James Bond-themed ball at a posh hotel full of people who can�t dance. I bought a new dress for the occasion, and it was a very pretty teal, and it fit, and that�s about all I can say about it. There are pictures of me in the new frock that, well, I mean, I liked the way my hair looked, right? And you know, the Girls, they looked rather resplendent too, I suppose. And that�s something, isn�t it? But the dress, or rather, me in the dress - because let�s not blame an innocent and highly forgiving garment here - was a bit of a letdown, a bit of a disappointment. I had reached the apex of my weight; there was only so much the poor frock could do.

Last night, I went to a wedding, a seriously fun, wonderfully grand Greek wedding, where I was looking forward to enjoying the champagne, and the lobster tail, but mostly, I was wondering how they were going to work tzatziki into the menu, because seriously poppets. Tzatziki makes the world a better place. I was looking forward to holding strangers� hands and stumbling through the Greek dances, circling the room and weaving around tables as I followed the bride and her handkerchief and mastered the irregular timing of the skips and the hops. I was looking forward to breaking it down, Zorba style. What I was not looking forward to was wondering if I at least looked better than Anthony Quinn in a dress. I needed to pull the pretty teal out of the closet, and I wasn�t looking forward to looking in the mirror, shrugging my shoulders and muttering, �It�ll do.�

Now, look, I know I could have bought a new one. And I am a lot of things, poppets, but I am not wasteful. You may think that owning 47 pairs of shoes is wasteful, but I wear all of those shoes � sometimes in one weekend. I am not wasteful. So when I had a pretty dress that fit, and that was appropriate for the occasion, that needed wearing to justify the cost, then I can�t very well throw good pesos away on a new one that isn�t going to look any better on my zenith of an ass, can I?

And so I wore it, settled with the idea that at least the dress was pretty, at least I�d look, you know, alright. I�d look alright. Let me tell you something, poppets. Ten pounds is ten pounds, but 9.8 has something pretty good to say for itself, too.

The dress, the dress still fit. I won�t lie; the dress was not too big. I did not suddenly have space in the fabric that I didn�t have before. But, it was� better. I looked better. I looked� better than alright. I looked ok. It�s not false modesty; when I look fantastic, I�m not shy about screaming it from the rooftops. So I didn�t look fantastic. But it�s coming.

I looked ok, and that�s not bad. Onwards.

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