I set myself up
I know what to expect, every goddamn time. And I do it anyway. The clothes aren't long enough, they don't fit my shape, they're cheaply made, and they cost too much. I know there's nothing out there for me, and I shop anyway. Maybe, just maybe, they'll have something. One thing. Just one.
Nothing.
Every goddamn time.
And I keep going, because I need clothes.
And I don't find anything.
And I get depressed.
And then I eat, usually chocolate, which makes the problem worse, but it feels so good at the time. There's nothing like chocolate to make your bad mood disappear, even if it means your hips expand beyond what should be humanly possible.
I take back every mean thought I ever had about old ladies in baby blue polyester gabardine pants that showed off every single lump of cellulite. I realize now they probably didn't have any choice in what to wear. I mean, who would actually choose to wear polyester gabardine if they actually had a choice?
Nothing.
Every goddamn time.
And I keep going, because I need clothes.
And I don't find anything.
And I get depressed.
And then I eat, usually chocolate, which makes the problem worse, but it feels so good at the time. There's nothing like chocolate to make your bad mood disappear, even if it means your hips expand beyond what should be humanly possible.
I take back every mean thought I ever had about old ladies in baby blue polyester gabardine pants that showed off every single lump of cellulite. I realize now they probably didn't have any choice in what to wear. I mean, who would actually choose to wear polyester gabardine if they actually had a choice?