Damn, Girl

Whenever I look in the mirror and think, “Damn, girl, you’ve got it going on!” I invariably head to the scale to see just how much weight I’ve magically lost eating donuts and drinking whiskey. (You know….the pastry and booze diet!) I pull the evil thing out from under the bed, step onto it, and discover I’m at the heaviest end of my weight range.

I think I look awesome, but the scale says otherwise. How can this be? Is it that muscle truly weighs more than fat? Are my proportions more pleasing with the extra weight? Does eating with abandon result in an emotional high that boosts my body image?

It’s probably best to not overthink it, shove the scale back under the bed with the tumblefluffs, and just enjoy life. (After all, I wouldn’t want to get so skinny that my favorite clothes no longer fit.)


Shirt, Christopher & Banks (thrifted). Skirt, J Crew (consignment). Belt, gift. Shoes, Charles David. Earrings, Rain’s Embellishments. Bag, Charming Charlie.