I fit into my skinny jeans today. You know those jeans you have that you always wish you fit into, but then you can never get a thigh in and it’s all depressing and you go eat an ice cream sandwich to cheer yourself up? Well those were the jeans I fit into today. Yes, my muffin top bulged out the top like a browning banana nut treat waiting to be consumed (or maybe waiting to make people nauseous, I can’t be sure), but THEY BUTTONED. And, as everyone knows, they buttoned = they totally fit. Hence why I’m wearing them now, even though I have to sit down carefully and I keep looking down to make sure my muffin top hasn’t also magically vanished (it hasn’t).
But this is something of a feat, especially since I just got back from my all you can eat & drink honeymoon on Saturday. I have already lost the 3 pounds I put on while we were gone (probably 2 lbs of water bloat and 1 lb of french fry and cookie fat) and voila, the skinny jeans made an appearance. I want to wear these every day. I want to tell people in Target and the oil change shop that I DID IT.
But then they’d probably look at my muffin top and their eyes would say, “but you still have THAT to deal with.” Trueche, strangers, trueche. I’d let my eyes tell them that I just went to Jamaica and this was the view from my room:
Oh and SUCK IT strangers, I also experienced this:
Aw yeah, getting’ panoramic in this bitch.
Then their eyes will be impressed, to have survived an all-inclusive vacation and then fit into skinny jeans 3 days later. I’ll equate it into fitting back into size smalls a week after giving birth. Except the only baby in this instance was a good time.