I try to plan what I’m going to wear to work, the night before. So I can sleep an extra 5-10 minutes in the morning.
Tuesday night, I planned my purple pants, and black top with purple trim. Nothing unusual.
Wednesday morning, I woke up, got dressed. And my pants didn’t fit. Like, had shrunk to toddler size overnight. Only they didn’t shrink. I grew.
“This is OK. This is fine. I can do this.” I thought to myself as I squished my gut in and buttoned my pants.
I was miserable. All day. I was like a mega-grand busted can of biscuits in those pants. I suffered through the day, just thankful that I was wearing a drapey top with them so no one could see the exploding muffin top. As soon as I got home I snapped a picture of me stuffed into them, and then took them off.
I’ll post the picture one day, labeled as before. But not yet. Not until I have an after.