It’s 10 after seven on a Saturday night and I’m the laundry room, stretching waste bands and legs on last summer’s white capris – four pairs made of different kinds of white fabric – hoping I’ll fit into them again this year. At this point, that’s my weight goal year after year. It’s not about losing 10, it’s about not buying a larger size. So far so good. And this is after eight years of M and M: Menopause and Mexican food.
So I’m stretching and pushing fabric when I find myself smiling. What’s up?