Size 18.

Today, while rooting through my storage unit, I grabbed something out of my dad's old military-issue foot locker that I use as a memory trunk of sorts. It's got a bunch of old crap, like my high school letter jacket, papers, etc. My childhood blanket, "Fa-fa." And it is also home to one pair of jeans...the one remaining item of clothing left over from the days I weighed over 200 pounds.

In those days, I wore a pants size of 18. Tonight, I tried on my size 8 jeans and they fit.

Of course, I had to get pictures, and I will be taking the old 18s to the gym to show them to M. the Reasonable. (I recently told him about showing them off to G. the Meanie at one point in my training in Stockton, and how it was the only time I ever saw G. speechless.)

Jeans: Size 18. Body: Size 8 (Can you see the ever-present cat on the bed?)

Just a comparison.

The whole time I played with my camera and my too-large jeans,
Harley showed zero interest. Gah, I love those wittle feetsies!