Far be it from me to jump on the bandwagon of the insanity of dress sizes for American women. What is an 8? A 12? A 16? Is a 16 the same as a 16W? Why do women have to just instinctively know that an 8 in one manufacturer is a 12 in another, while men have to remember nothing more than (very concrete) waist and inseam measurements to find a pair of jeans that fit?

That's another rant for another day. Surprisingly enough, I'm not in a ranting mood. Quite the opposite, actually.

On Friday, Misty sent a pair of jeans home with me, bidding me to try them on, just to see if they fit. On one hand, they were from a different manufacturer than the jeans I normally wear; on the other, they were two sizes smaller than what I wore when I started working out.

I put off trying them on until this morning, mostly because I believed they wouldn't fit, but this morning, I decided to try them on and get it over with. Surprisingly enough, they fit. They were a little tighter in the thigh than I normally like, but as I tend to prefer my jeans to fit very, very loosely, I disregarded that.

Two sizes, eh? Nifty. Even by my picky standards. Even I have to admit that's pretty adequate reward for two months of effort.

The changes are slow - but I've noticed a few of them lately that have gratified me through a couple of tough workout weeks. A couple of sweaters that I generally avoided, due to tightness or general lack of comfort, have been rediscovered as 'comfortable' and have been placed back into general wardrobe rotation.

I'm wearing one of them at the moment, actually; a simple black turtleneck (shut up, yes, I have about four different plain black sweaters, and yes, I can tell them apart just by feel) that avoided going to Goodwill last fall simply because I didn't spot it in time. (Still not quite enthralled with the turtleneck, but the rest of the sweater just simply fits. Novel, that.)

In my little notebook - the one that I lovingly refer to as my brain - there's a wishlist tucked away. Some wishes are small, and inexplicable to anyone but me. As I've gained weight, there have been things I've missed, things that have caused me to shrug to myself and whisper quietly, "Not for me, I guess."

As I dozed off for a little while earlier today, my last thoughts were of the quick shopping trip I'd made earlier in the day. I'd walked through a part of the store I didn't normally walk through, and the silk boxers caught my eye. I've always loved them; for years I've held the opinion that there are few better things to sleep in than a beat-up t-shirt and a goofy pair of silk boxers.

But I've not bought any for a long, long time.

Soon, I think.

With time, and workouts, many things become possible.

I'll update more on the new trainer (Val) later this week. I'm scheduled to meet with her on Friday morning, but have been in phone and email contact with her since last week to do some minor changes to my weights regimen. She asked me to immediately drop to two sets on everything, and to adjust weights on each exercise up, as appropriate. I expect that Friday's workout will be a major change. So far, I've been quite pleased.

Oh, and I've dropped Becky's Thursday night aerobics class. I liked it when Laura taught it, but Becky added in lots of step aerobics. I loathe step aerobics. If I wanted to be punched in the head by my own breasts, I could do it in the comfort and privacy of my own home.