So this morning was my weigh-in, and I'm down three pounds. Woot!
And as if this wasn't enough to brighten my day, I decided to look for a long jumper/dress type thing whilst I was in town, and found some really nice ones. So since the sizes looked pretty big and chunky, I thought I'd start with a 14 (since I tried a size 14 jacket last week and, amazingly, it fit). And then, being in a gleeful mood from my weigh-in, I thought: "What the hell, I'll try a 12 too, just for laughs."
The 14 was a bit big, the 12 fit well, but it wasn't exactly tight! So after a few moments of obsessively checking the labels to make sure they were actually those sizes, I thought "Well the world has clearly gone insane, so why not throw all sense to the wind and try a 10?"
10. I have never worn a size 10. I went straight from children's clothes to size 12, and then very quickly to 14, 16, 18, and so forth. In fact, when I was younger I didn't even understand how clothes sizing worked. At first, I thought size 12 was for 12 year-olds. (I also remember when I stopped thinking this: I was buying a skirt from a chap at a market stall and I picked a size 12 and he looked at it and looked at me and laughed and said 'you sure you have the right size?' I bought it anyway and it fit, just about. Silly man...) After that I just ignored sizes and picked up whatever hanger was at the back of the rail since the largest were always at the back. And I figured this was because the ugly clothes for ugly people were kept at the back out of sight. I have clothes somewhere that are sizes 20, 22, and 24, although I've never actually been that size, simply because I used to think that I must be the fattest size available, so I just picked the biggest clothes, was so relieved when they fit (not really seeing that they were far too big!), and bought them anyway.
But long story short... me in a size 10? That's a crazy idea.