So. I’m in a bit of a conundrum. Just a little one really. Annoying and bothersome, but probably surmountable. A ding or two to my self-concept. . .
I’m not losing the weight I imagined I would. Maybe about a 1/2 pound a week. (Must I be slow at EVERYTHING?)
But. That’s not my problem.
The other night I was getting ready for bed when I made the mistake of looking down. At my breasts. I immediately ran into the bathroom where hub was brushing his teeth and said – nay demanded – “Are my boobs getting smaller !?” He confirmed it. I was SO bummed!
I’ve always been the . . . er. . . “breast” of jokes from my family since I was in my teens. Every woman in my family is more well endowed than me.
My sister (you know her as Miranda) warned me this would happen. And when I said “nawwww!”, her husband said “yep!”
And now it has. *sigh*
Whatever. Enough moping. I’ve gotta go run. And try not to be sad that I’m whittling down to an A cup.