some people need retail therapy to counteract depression. not me. in fact, retail therapy, especially where clothes are concerned, now makes me depressed. when you have a recalcitrant wobbly bulge at your midriff, it kinda narrows down the styles you can wear and it becomes more challenging to find something that won’t make you look like a sack of potatoes. and when you finally find a style that you think might be suitable, you go to the fitting room and emerge about 30 seconds later, asking for “one size bigger, please”… um, twice. what can i say? i used to be a eur 34, y’know. used to be being the operative words.

darn, i think i really need to hit the treadmill. i can’t afford a wardrobe overhaul!

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