There has been a seismic shift in my knicker drawer. I'm sure there are lots of women out there who get ecstatic when they can fit into an old pair of skinny jeans that they've been hanging on to for just that purpose. And I certainly have those. But recently my hallelujah has been exclaimed in front of my underwear drawer. Yes, folks, I can fit into my skinny knickers.*
I don't know about you, but my personal philosophy about an underwear purchase is a little like Christianity's view of the afterlife: that once you buy it, it is like crossing the river Styx to the underworld. There ain't no coming back. Well, except for that one guy. But I'll return just about anything else: a bra, a swimming suit (as long as I've kept the hygienic strip in it--I'm no animal), shoes. But not the knickers. So anyway, pushed to the back of my knicker drawer are a bunch of pairs that didn't fit or just didn't fit right. They didn't come up far enough over the horizon to stay put, or they made my hips look like I was wearing a box around my middle. But in the last few days, as a back-up to what the scale has been saying these days, I tried out some of those fresh new but sadly unfit pairs, and lo! they fit.
Some weight victories are small, and some, while appearing small, feel just huge. I had another when I found I could fit into some skirts at the GAP. Now, they were the biggest size they have, but for me it was a win. Fitting into the dress I wore the day I met Mr. Bump's parents for the first time--that was a big one too. Watching the number on the scale register a total loss of almost (I'm so close!) 60 pounds. That calls for a lowfat celebratory treat. But this knicker thing is an unexpected surprise. I can feel some of my ribs below my collar bone, too. Can't see them, but I can feel them. I think you're supposed to. Who knew?
I could go on about things that are better now--airline seats, photo opportunities, exercise. But those things are obvious. Everyone can see those, congratulate you on those. The knickers--that one's just for me.
*I don't know about you, but I hate the word panties. I even hate writing it down here as a footnote. Underwear is not specific; it could be a bra, or a slip (who wears a slip anymore?) or even pantyhose (another hateful word, but then they're hateful things, so I guess the word fits). The only acceptable word for those things you hopefully put under your jeans is knickers. As with many other things, the British English is just a better choice.