“Hello?” my friend Liane answered the phone.
“Will we be doing anything requiring a sexy blue silk tank top?”
“Sure why not, bring it.”
Decision made, I am taking the blue silk number that I got at Vive La Femme. I wore it once or twice. Once for Rock N Roll (the night I accidentally met his 20 year old daughter) and once… to the Rail for drinks with Anj and company.
I am also taking every pink top I own–mainly because it offers me the highest number of coordinated layering options.
I am not taking my beloved Neighborhoodie. Nothing that makes me look fat is going into the duffel bag. Nothing. This is my triumphant and skinnier return to colorado, the town that made me fat. Or the town where I made myself fat.
They don’t know my plateau has lasted over a year, they will only know that I am thinner and happier than when I lived there. That now I wear a star of david and don’t eat pork. Well, they won’t know that. Sorry God, but I can’t keep kosher this weekend. There is the Durango Diner to visit. There is the Durango Bagel to visit. There is a Philly Chicken Cheesesteak at Lady Falconburgh’s. There are potato skins and more green chile at Olde Tymers. God, get me to Durango NOW.
ummm… Looks like the whole weekend will be about food. Anyone doubt why I got fat in Colorado?