A and B but never a C

I can't do it. I really, really can't. I cannot bring myself to buy an A cup bra.

I don't know why it's such a big deal. No one would know, exactly. I think I'm just enjoying the comfort and false sense of size that my current B cup bra brings. But it's getting kind of ridiculous, especially since the cups of my current bras are wearing out (umm, my boobies very clearly do not fill said cups, so the structure and form of those cups is all I got), so sometimes my boobs just look like half-deflated balloons.

We tried going shopping for them last weekend. Blech. Do they make a size 35? The 36 is clearly too large, but I'm convinced the 34 digs into my back. I'm sure if I let the lady with the tape measure anywhere near my naked torso she'd tell me to go with the 34, but I'm telling you, it digs. If it were up to me, I'd never wear one.

When you lose weight it's fun to fit into smaller pants, but not so fun to need a dramatically different set of undergarments. And speaking of that, I am even more in awe of how much of a freak of nature Heidi Klum may be. I have admittedly lost a lot of weight, but my body does not seem to be ready to part with my lower abdomen. "We're here!" it says. "Just in case you decide to get pregnant again. What's the point of going away if you're just going to stretch us out again? Pffft. Too lazy to move twice." Or maybe this is just a personal problem?

Bug turns nine months old on Monday. Holy crap! That means she will be out of me as long as she was inside me. All this does is remind me of how unbelievably long pregnancy is.

One year ago! I do miss eating Sour Patch Kids without thinking twice.

We had been flirting with the idea of renting our house out and being caretakers of a relative's house for a year to save ourselves some money. I still don't know the final outcome of this, but I do know that listing your house for rental reminds me a lot of online dating. You put up a profile, and you try and make yourself sound good: Charming, updated, in good shape. Then you post some pictures and hope that someone emails you. When they do, you might send more pictures and then you wait rather impatiently to see if they email you back. What if they thought the pictures were ugly? Should you have cleaned up more? Gone for different angle? Then you hope that they tell you they want to come and meet in person. And then you hope they actually show up.

I know that I should be happy for the general populace that wants to get back in shape, but I hate the fact that they are taking over my gym. Let's just fast forward to the end of February when you've all given up again. I had to wait FIFTEEN MINUTES for a treadmill last night. When you are only budgeted for an hour of total gym time, every minute counts. It was torturous to watch the minutes slowly fade away from my own running time. Also, if you have the incline so high that you have to hug the treadmill, you might want to slow it down, or maybe just lower it by a few steps. And seriously? Wipe down your machine. Assholes.

This is probably how I will find her on her bedroom floor in 13 years, but her phone will probably look much cooler by then.