The jeans fit.
No.
Not “THE” jeans.
But a pair of jeans three sizes smaller that I could wear this time last year. They fit. And I can zip them up without employing a coat hanger. And I can sit down and stand up without feeling as if I am being punished. And I can breathe. You people who never struggle with weight probably take wearing jeans and breathing for granted. Trust me when I tell you that the rest of us never do.
Are we there yet?
Nope.
But I think I’m on the way.
I’m doing a happy dance over here.