There’s a posh boutique down the street from my house and every day as I walk by I covet the grey wool skirt in the window. It’s fitted from the waist to the knee but then has these kicky big pleats that make it look like something from the 1940’s. I figured they wouldn’t have any size to fit me though so I never went in… until today. “Screw it!” I thought. So I went in and asked the guy (who turned out to be the designer himself) what sizes he had. He said he had a 14. I haven’t been a 14 since high school. He held it up though… and it kinda looked like it might fit. So I tried it on. And it did fit! I stood there in the changing room like an idiot pulling on the zipper because I just couldn’t believe that I’d really zipped it all the way up. It didn’t look that great on me, to tell the truth, but that’s beside the point. Wearing a 14 was one of my original weightloss goals! I’ve probably been this size for ages but never thought to check. Amazing.
(And no, I didn’t buy the skirt. On top of its unflatteringness, it was $120! I thanked the man and made a hasty retreat.)