Plumber's butt

Yep. Plumber's butt. Or carpenter's crack, if that's your druthers. It's a new issue for me; certainly not one I've dealt with since I was, oh, about three years old.

Earlier this year I had to buy all new clothes, from the inside out. Yeah, I had to since I'd "undergrown" every single thing I'd worn last summer. Since the weight was coming off relatively slowly, I figured I'd get my money's worth out of everything I bought, maybe even wearing it next year.

Welp, that ain't gonna happen.

Now, it's a good problem to have, so don't think for a second that I'm complaining. But I'm down to two pairs of capris and one pair of jeans...and those have to be held up with a belt; an item I don't own 'cause fat people don't wear belts. Well, I didn't. With my short waist and round body I looked like a Weeble.

Today I went grocery shopping with one of my 9-year-old granddaughters, my diva darlin' Lilybell. Lilybell has a problem; her pants just won't stay up. Never have. Prolly never will. So there we went, up and down the aisles, both of us tugging up our pants every few steps. What a sight we must've been.

Today's weight: 164 lbs.