Tuesday, December 04, 2012

It's Official.

On Halloween I took the kids downtown do Trick or Treating and while we were walking I kept feeling the ole underoos slipping down.  At first, I kept telling myself it was just a little slip, no reason to hike them back up. That little slip turned into a whole ass. By the time we got back to the car, my undies were no longer over my ass, they were under my ass. I tried a few nonchalant (In my head they were nonchalant) grab and pulls, but these fuckers weren't staying.

So everyone I know, knows that I moved out here to Oregon about a year ago and all of my close people know I haven't transitioned well. It's been rough and when the rough stuff gets going, I get to eating. I'll be honest, I don't care about my body or my mind as long as I got a meal in my belly. These are coping skills, people. Look it up. Who needs a doctor when you got a Polar Pop and hot dog?

Now that you've got that little back story I need to move one to this morning. I'm getting dressed, about to take the kids to school, because that pretty much my only responsibility these days. So I am slipping on the White Cottons and they aren't really making their way over my boodie. Wham! It hits me. I have officially eaten myself into my underwear not fitting me anymore. The stretchiest piece of clothing I own is at it's max capacity.

You would think that I would immediately get on the horn with The Biggest Loser people, but I did not. I shrugged.


The Bus Stop said...

Are you sure they were not one of the kids..cos undies fit forever.

Coming Along Nicely said...

Nope. I checked the size to make sure there wasn't some kind of mistake. Besides, my kids unders would make it over my thigh.

The Bus Stop said...

Comando now?

Coming Along Nicely said...

Of course, Dude.