Who actually loses weight over the holidays? This girl right here. It was evident in the way I didn't need to shimmy into my skinny jeans today, but just simply slid them on, and said hello to my hipbones as I did so. Frickin HATE the holidays now. The whole season is nothing more than a giant magnifying glass to me. It hurts everyday. It's lonely everyday. But on these special days meant to be shared with your loved ones, it is anguish. I tried my best to sleep through the majority of the worst 48 hours, and did a fairly good job. Thank you, Trazodone. You are a true friend.
By the time Christmas Eve came around, I had already giving up on eating and bathing, resigning myself to a single pair of mismatched pajamas and greasy hair.
Hey, at first, I tried...I went out and got the absolute bare necessities needed for Jake's Christmas, and even attempted to cozy up to my husband for comfort. When I recognized myself as Mrs. Roper from Three's Company prancing around in her marabou feather nightie to Mr. Roper's constant indifference and annoyance, I threw in the towel. Every time I so much as looked in Tim's direction, he shrank from my gaze, and began to look put-upon, as if I'd asked him to go install a garbage disposal or put up a set of shelves during his leisure time.
I am no one's job. I took my freshly shaved legs and retreated.
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