I need new clothes. I’m nearly at the point where I can’t deal with it anymore.

I like loose fitting clothes. When you’re might height your clothes shopping options dwindle greatly. When you’re my weight too, they pretty much vanish. I wear what I can get my hands on. That’s it.

Today though, I am wearing clothes that I bought 80+ pounds ago. Everything I own is super baggy now. I really don’t mind with t-shirts and collared shirts except that the neck opening sometimes hangs down low enough that it feels like a v-neck. Jeans… well… Ever seen a movie from the 50’s with a hobbo character? That’s how I feel. I am starting to feel like I look like a clown.

Jen and I are planning to do some clothes shopping this weekend. I usually buy online, but I don’t really know what size I need now. I am going to have to spend some quality fitting room time. I’m actually stressing out about this a little. Why?

I’ve been using a selfie a day app and taking a picture of myself in the mirror every morning. I don’t see a lot of difference in my appearance. I wonder if that’s because the clothes are the same size in all of the pics. If I wear smaller clothes will I then look thinner? I don’t know. I don’t care. Well, maybe I do care.

Wednesday is my weigh in day. I woke up this morning needing to step on the scale. I mean I needed to. I didn’t. I fought the urge to break the routine. I don’t know if I will be able to do the same tomorrow (Tuesday) but I will do my best. Once a week is good. Once every two weeks would be better. Once a month would be best. I just don’t want to get caught up in the numbers game, but at the same time I feel like this whole post-surgery experience is difficult enough that I should be celebrating every single ounce I lose. I don’t know.

Weigh in the day after tomorrow. Clothes shopping three days later. Such a crazy, weird new world, huh?