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I got home from the gym, put my sweaty ass [quite literal] in a hot shower and then stretched out naked on my bed to relax. The man comes looking for me, finds me and wants to know when we're going food shopping cause he's hungry. Then he looks at me, in a considering way, and says:

Baby your tummy is getting flatter.

But I dissent: Nah, that's gravity.

He tells me: I've seen you lay like that before...believe me when I tell you you're tummy is getting flatter. Now get dressed; I'm hungry.

Maybe it was the matter of fact way he said it, or that I didn't prompt the comment at all, but it made me feel so good that he's noticing a difference. Especially when I've been so down about the scale's, until very recently, lack of cooperation. But I got up with a smile & searched for my favorite, and sole, pair of jeans.

They are the only pair I've been able to squeeze myself into for months now and that feat requires sucking in, jumping up and down, and laying prone on a flat surface. After my gymnastic moves result in the successful zippering & buttoning of said jeans, sitting is an impossibility without first unbuttoning said fly. And honestly it feels like the waistband is trying to scissor my uterus in half. Not good but my only alternative has been strolling around town in pajama pants or his sweats. This process gets easier as the jeans get worn a few times, but once washed it's back to the mary-lou-retton routine.

But today, right out of the dryer, they slid up on and fastened without so much as an inhale. The earlier smile became ear splitting and my mood, already good, improved tenfold. I ran downstairs, eager to share this milestone and declared: I've got empirical evidence! You weren't just being sweet!

His response, with a quirky grin: Darth Vader left a thumb print?

I laughed deep and long in my belly and guess what? It didn't hurt.


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