IN WHICH I BUY CLOTHES AND EAT A CHEESEBURGER

So who knew that the errands that Rich wanted to run included buying me some new jeans?  

Apparently, Mr. Blackwell over there is not happy with my go-to "outside" outfit of twenty-six year old jeans and a big top. (We won't even talk about my "inside" outfits). I thought I was doing a good job of hitching the jeans up with a rope and all...but apparently the fact that both of us could stand in them together and at the same time was a major fashion faux pas.

What can I say?  Clothes and clothes shopping are just not my thing.  Never have been.  I always blamed it on the fact that I'm a big girl and not at all good at finding the appropriate tent to cover my wobbly bits, but I really think it has to do with the fact that my lifestyle leans more to comfy than fashionable these days.

(Besides...who needs clothes when there are stitchy things to buy?!)

(I'm a girl on a buget, kids....and have my priorities after all.)

I have categories of clothes...inside comfy, outside comfy, date night "acceptable with a coat over it", and dialysis clothes.  But my categories are, I've been gently told, more akin to that of a person who just doesn't have enough sense to know that she looks ridiculous rather than suburban chic, and that clothes that are more than twenty years old should probably be passed on (to the dust bin).

So now I have a sporty new pair of jeans that somewhat fit (I personally think they are entirely too tight, but nine people in the Targets assured me they were not) and a lovely new denim blouse that I can wear on its own or with something shiny underneath.

Thank you for your kind comments about me losing weight.  I am a bit stuck since starting dialysis, but am really working hard to get another hundred pounds off.  If I achieve this, my total weight loss (from my very highest) will be 260 pounds.

(Told you I was a big girl.)

(My highest, by the way was quite some time ago...the year 2000, to be exact.  Eighteen months of high dose prednisone and a propensity for eating racks and racks of ribs had something to do with that little episode, I'm sure.)

Anywhoose...the prednisone weight came off over the space of about three years, but then I stuck at a weight a hundred pounds higher than I am now.  What prompted the second round of weight loss was the transplant surgeon telling me to call him when I weighed "x".

So now I weigh a little less than "x", but want to keep going as well as I can so that when this is all over I will finally be the petite blinde triathlete I've always known was trapped in here.

After we bought the jeans, we headed out to dinner and I had a cheeseburger.  I realize that this seems to fly in the face of everything I just said above, but...it was a cheeseburger.  And I ate it with only one bun and a salad on top of it.

OK...maybe I THOUGHT about eating it with only one bun and a salad on top of it, but actually ate it with both buns and a side of truffle fries...but...baby steps, people.  Baby steps.

My cold is kicking my b-o-t-t-o-m today, but I am relieved to conclude that it just that -- a good old fashioned head cold and not the flu.  No fever, chills, body aches, etc.  Just a runny nose, watery eyes, and a froggy voice.  Hopefully it will all be over in a couple of days.

So that's the rather long-winded report for a snowy Friday, Dearies.  I hope you are heading into a weekend filled with everything your heart desires.  Please take good care and do something wonderful and kind for yourself.  When you do...come tell me all about it!