I put on the size 34 waist jeans I'd worn yesterday with boxers, except this morning, for some reason, I decided to wear regular jockey girl panties instead. And the butt was baggy. As were the thighs. "Holy shit," I thought, "My 34s are baggy!" I walked around the house doing my other morning preparations and chores, frequently grabbing my own butt to feel my baggy-ass jeans. What joy. When I woke up Deb, I couldn't wait to tell her. "Come, look at this," I exclaimed and moved to the light from the bathroom, where I looked down myself and realized that I'd put on my size 36 waist jeans this morning.

It was a small letdown, but I just readjusted my thoughts to, "Damn, my 36s are getting really baggy. Yeah!"

I've walked 35 miles so far this year.

My mom is flying to Argentina tonight for the first leg of her Antarctica trip. I'm reading "The Worst Journey in the World" about Scott's last expedition there. Mom had already read it and loaned it to me when I went home to visit this past weekend.

Deb seems to be doing way better on Wellbutrin than she did on Effexor after a couple very bad days of withdrawal symptoms. I wrote an entry about that but lost it when my personnel manager walked into my office and I closed my Safari window instead of just minimizing it. That was a "dammit" moment.