Anyway, sometimes I'm a size 10.

Alright, Kirsten. I know you want me to update already. So I'm here. Typing. The question is, where will it all lead?
There's nothing in my head but ranting. I feel discouraged and unsatisfied and unresolved. But I don't particularly feel like carrying on about that.
So...
Instead I could make a list of my blessings, but I always feel like that gets a little out of hand and that I'm leaving too many things out, so I will just do that in my head.
Um...
See why I never update? It's complicated.

I could tell the world (or the three people that read my blog) that my party was, in fact, wonderful and I'm done stressing about it (almost). And that you have a gorgeous baby girl that I wish I was (were?) holding right now. And that I am indulging in some guilty-pleasure chick-lit murder mysteries-- a guilty pleasure I didn't even know I had. I just read "Size 12 is Not Fat" by Meg Cabot and have moved on to the 2nd in the series. Too bad size 12 is fat.
I'm going to be a teapot for Halloween because it requires no costume. I am short and stout. Done. A little annoyed that no one is fighting me on this, especially since I've lost at least 10 lbs. Oh well, I guess I keep losing weight before I get to go as a champagne flute.

Sorry, Kirs, I just don't have a lot to say right now! Maybe it's the headache. Or maybe it's the guilty-pleasure book sitting next to me calling my name. "Size 14 is Not Fat Either." There is a reason women pick up these books.