Friday, April 28, 2006
Crossing the Floor
In Canada, "crossing the floor" has become a political hot button, especially here in Vancouver (ref: David Emerson, the swine). In my own life "crossing the floor" has become a measure of fitness. "Huh?" You ask. For a long time now I've shopped at Cotton Ginny because they seem to understand that some women do indeed have thighs and butts that have a bit of flesh on them. Their stores have "regular size" and "plus size" sides. I remember having to go from one side of the store to the other as my weight increased (I crossed the floor); now I've started shopping back on the "regular size" side again (I crossed back). I was in between for a while, which is a pain in the ass let me tell you, but now I'm firmly in the regular size part of the store. It's pretty heady stuff that. I'm now nearly two dress sizes smaller than I was ten months ago. A couple of weeks ago, I bought some new clothes and it feels great (I like shopping for clothes as much as I enjoy watching paint dry, so it's unusual for me to feel great about shopping). I'm actually looking forward to these new clothes being too big for me by the end of the summer. Oh happy day!
