7 Days in Sunny June

Allow me to channel my inner Jamiroquai (love that song) but modify it to seven YEARS in sunny June.

That’s because it took me THAT LONG to get back to the weight I was at when I arrived here seven years ago.

I’ve still got mah pudgy pork roast ass. And I worry about losing too much weight and not being able to wear all my sleeveless shirts that took me a lifetime to get up the nerve to buy/wear.

But fuck it. I don’t have college tuitions to save up for. Plastic surgery, baybee.

I’m also in zero danger of being skinny. I’m quite thrilled to be teetering just on the wrong side of the normal/overweight BMI line.

Anyway I keep thinking my clothes will be loose. Not so. They actually fit properly now. Who knew skirts weren’t supposed to be so short and that you don’t have to unzip your jeans to pull them on? IT’S MAGIC, I TELL YOU.

That’s all. Carry on. Ain’t nothin’ nobody could do to piss me off today. And I promise not to even notice if they try.

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