I said I wouldn't become my mother, and that you would never find a rack of shoes in my closet and another set underneath my bed and another set of lesser-used shoes underneath the guest bed. I still say that. I think it's true; knowing a potential pitfall exists can sometimes help you avoid it.However, I skirted one pitfall only to discover another: the cult of Nordstrom. I get it, oh, I get it.

It was the damn makeup, see.

Back in September 2003, I wrote about my unexpected discovery of the goodness of Birkenstock, otherwise known as shoes that actually fit (the entry 'hippie sandal-wearing freaks'). Since then, my momentary $50 splurge on off-white Birks has proven to be one of the wisest $50 expenditures in my adult life. I knew I had unusual feet, but I figured I just wasn't trying hard enough to find shoes that worked for me.

Part One: Women

There's a rule. Don't go to Yarn Expressions on one of their variable-percentage sale days. (Draw a ticket to determine your discount. Most people get 20% off, a few people get more, one person gets 75% off.) Sure, the flyers are lovely, and the possibility of drawing one of the lucky tickets is enticing, but the actual experience of trying to make a purchase at the store on sale day can only be described as craptastic.

Lately it's been just - quiet.

I'm okay with that, I think; we've gotten past the rumble and bluster of dragon*con and birthday season, and suddenly here we are staring another set of holidays square in the face. The trees turn slower here than they do in Colorado; the deciduous trees of north Alabama are just now starting to color, and are nowhere near the yellow blaze of aspen that decorated every Colorado street corner in September.

Filed under "Something ELSE I have to do while in Colorado in January":

For several months now, I've seen recommendations for a company called Title Nine Sports. I finally researched them tonight, and it turns out they're a woman-owned company whose sole intent & purpose is to design and sell sportswear for women — and NOT just women whose cup size is an A or B.

Yeah, that's right. Turns out I'm not the only woman doing serious exercise who wears greater than a C cup. Who knew? Not me!

I went shopping today.

It doesn't sound like much, until I tell you that I went to Victoria's Secret, and for the first time in nearly a decade, I didn't just stand outside the window, look in, and wish for that far-off, mythical 'someday' to come in which I'd be able to fit in their clothes again. It's been nearly a decade since I shopped in Victoria's Secret. A decade of looking in that window and knowing that people like me just weren't welcome there.

So much about being overweight isn't just about the extra poundage you carry. Sometimes it's as simple as looking in the window of a store and knowing, just knowing, that you can't shop there. For me, I felt bad enough about myself already, and trying to shop for clothes only made it worse.

I cried in a dressing room today. Wasn't much, just a tear or two, and only for a moment, but whether or not I feel embarrassment admitting it, it did happen.

I've told a lot of people that I can't quite see the changes that have been happening to me in the past three months, but that's not exactly the truth. I see small things: changes in tautness of skin, the return of a dimple that I haven't seen in several years. Just not what the rest of you are apparently seeing.