Wednesday, March 03, 2004

Bored and Killing Time

I'm currently hopped up on caffeine and cold medicine and waiting for my mom's friend, Sandy, to come get me because we're going out to lunch. Sandy lives near Pittsburgh and has been kind enough to babysit my car for me during my last two visits to my mom's. When I got back last time, I had an assload of presents for her in appreciation for everything she's done for me, but of course the fucktards at Alitalia lost my bags. No bags = no presents.

I'm a little unclear why she's in the area, though she said something about visiting somebody in Indiana. All I know is that despite sleeping nearly 11 hours, I still want to crawl back into bed. I'm sick and feeling rather run down, but ah well.

My mom, Angelo, and Valentina all were over here in North America for about six weeks. They spent a good deal of time in California visiting family and friends out there, and then I think they went and spent some time in Mexico, too. In any case, my mom sent me a nice package containing a couple of pairs of jeans, a Benetton sweater she didn't want anymore, some stationery with my initial, and some Ciobar, which is the best fucking hot chocolate on the planet (and which we kept forgetting to buy before I left Italy).

When I was over there over the holidays, I was rather stunned to discover that I wear a size 10. I say stunned because at my heaviest, I was somewhere around a size 18-20. I have this selection of old clothes I've had forever, and which have fit me over a variety of sizes and weights. And since I never go shopping for clothes, I had no idea what size I was.

Actually, I assumed I was something like a 12. I was more than happy with that, but then when I went over to my mom's for vacation, I was shocked to discover that my mom and I wear the same size now. This is a shock because the last time my mom and I were able to wear the same clothes was when I was 12, and I'd just come back from fat camp. And I wasn't even fully grown or developed then, so I pretty much figured with my large-ish frame, I'd never get as small as my mom.

Well, back then, my mom wore a size 8. She's put on a little bit, but still. I was floored when she gave me a pair of jeans to try on and they fucking fit!!! Totally floored. But then it turned into total stokedness, because my mom started giving me clothes she didn't wear anymore.

She's here.. more latah!

Currently Playing...
Song: Schism by Tool

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