At first I was in denial (because it was gradual), trying to cram myself in my pants anyway. Then I started wanting to size up, sending frustrated texts to my boyfriend about wanting to have immediate gratification, using sweatshop options. A bunch of "poor me" inner dialogue trying to justify the easy way out. But, you know, not really an option. Thankfully I had someone to text real-time to tell on myself because that's what saved me from doing it.
This weekend will find me sorting through the racks at Beacon's Closet and some other resale and thrift stores to find some bigger items until I've been back to exercise for long enough that I can go back to my older clothes. Please send wishes that the Pants Shopping Gods are on my side. Or god - surely there is only one.