Stress belly

I'll say one thing for the particular kind of stress I experience in grief. Nothing takes the weight off me faster. It's shocking how little time it's taken since it started that I'm almost back to my old shape. Call it stress belly. Hurts to eat.

I'm in a pair of jeans that have sat in the drawer for years now. I bought them online thinking I knew my size, but when they arrived they were too tight to wear. Probably should have returned them, exchanged them for a bigger size, but instead I just buried them at the bottom of the dresser in a fit of pique. Never actually wore them. Now they fit almost like things used to.

I look great. Nobody wears their stress like I do. Like the girl who showed up to Nexus six years ago in the painted-on dress at a hundred and four pounds and dropping because her stress belly hurt so bad she was barely eating. If I'd lost any more I would have looked sick. As it was, where things stopped, I looked perfect.

Can't let it get that bad again. Would rather be fat and happy than skinny and in pain.