Well, my heart is starting to feel less like it’s been pummeled against a cheese grater.
And the belt I chose to wear today — at the same hole I used to use to keep the thing secured at my waist — is now a hip belt.
Oh, and the shirt that would just never button over the ol’ muffin top? Stays buttoned even when I sit.
I used to assume that any boy troubles I had were inversely related to the size of my pudgy pork roast ass. Now I realize, as it’s a leaner pork roast these days, that size really only matters when it comes to THEIR pants. And also, they’re mostly just clueless anyway.
In any event, I can has progress? Can has!