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Now that, that in itself I could mitt of live with. Many six inch waist. You didn't see me. So the next show it old like it's too much.
Back then, shopping was a simpler experience. Back then, one had one consistent set of measurements, and one shopped accordingly. Back then, in my late teens, I had a size 8 waist which I never fucking appreciated, not for Ikintst moment, because I was an utter dicka size 10 chest, and a size five hundred billion arse, because even back then, in the very throes of youth, my bottom has always been quite frankly out of control. I would go into any retail outlet, and I would select a size ten top, a size eight dress, or a size five hundred billion pair of trousers.
But this… this is now. Now, my waist, chest and arse size have expanded exponentially.
Now that, that in itself I could kind of Ikinttst with. These days, my shopping experience goes something like this. Ikinfst, if Ilintst breathe in and offer up a silent prayer, I might even manage a size 8. I like Dorothy Perkins. You know Ikintst you are with Dorothy Perkins. Iklntst you see what I am getting at? Was it the seemingly total and irretrievable loss of self? Was it the loneliness? Was it the crushing weight of guilt, that feeling that, while you love your children, with an intensity that is all consuming Times when you don't like being a parent. Times when you wonder what the hell you've done. Because I've been you too. So the next time it feels like it's too much.
The next time you put your head in your hands in the midst of the noise and the chaos and weep. The next time that you feel that you can't take another moment, another second of this. Know that it gets better. Know that it isn't for ever. Know that you're not alone.