Another thing I started doing was taking care of my nails. I’ve bitten my nails for years. And I started saying, No, I’m going to take care of my hands, so they look nice. This hasn’t been 100%—this week, in fact, I’ve had a hell of a time keeping the stresses of trying to get the house in order off of my nails. But for the most part, over the past year I’ve had very nice nails.

My first point of order a year ago was to buy more of my favorite nail polish, MAC Vino. Alas! MAC no longer made this shade. So I dived headfirst into what was available, trying to find a duplicate. From there, I branched out into brighter reds. Then pinks. Then purples. Then I went nuts and hit my favorite shade, a dark purple/grey named OPI My Private Jet.

While looking for all of these faboo nail polishes, I made quite a collection.

And now they all have to stay here until I find a place for them in the new house. Alas.

But still. These sizes. It’s crazy.

I recently measured myself and I’m basically the same size I was at 22. Yeah, I know: Go Team Diane! But finding clothes is getting hard. I bought a pair of size 4 Gap Long and Lean jeans on Mother’s Days, and they’re somewhat loose now. This body, 20 years ago, I was a size 8, maybe a size 6 with these legs—how in the hell can I be a size 4? Size 4 is for skinny people! And no matter what my running bud Nina says, I don’t feel especially twig-like. It’s not me, it’s the clothes, which is to say, it’s the population.

(What we learn from this is: Anyone who’s kept the same pants size for a decade or two? Hasn’t, if you know what I mean.)

What’s ridiculous is, a size 6 skirt I bought shortly before I got pregnant with Sophia (that would be 10 years ago! gack!) is still tight. And that Calvin Klein skirt (also size 6) I was so looking forward to wearing again? Yeah, it just looks kinda silly on me now—I’m guessing my parts are not quite shaped the way they were, even if they measure the same. Apparently clothing sizes have been adjusted downwards a lot in just the past 10 years. Alas, I am going to have to let the CK go, because I just don’t feel comfortable in it. Wah wah wah.

(And just in case you’re wondering, I have almost the exact same measurements as Marilyn Monroe did, according to this page, except my waist is 29, not 22. I can’t quite fathom a 22 inch waist, frankly. Your envy of Darin’s good fortune may commence now.)

Nina and I did a 15 mile run today, and at mile 13 she said, “Are you tired?”

“Hell yes, I’m tired. I’m still waiting for my runner’s body to show up and this won’t hurt anymore.”

“I know, I’m wondering where mine is too.”

It’s just not fair that we’re doing all this running and all this training and it’s still hard. A six-mile run feels pretty normal these days; a 15-mile run feels like someone whapped me hard with a tire iron. And over the past several weekends I’ve done: 15 miles, 17 miles, 15 miles, 20 miles, and 15 miles. You’d think I’d have adjusted by now. But no: 15 miles still feels killer.

I’ve got to remember to bring ibuprofen for the marathon, because I need to be proactive on the pain.

(The fact that I thought was kinda puffy and fat? Makes me want to go back in time and throttle that girl so hard I could scream. The fact that the Apple Fitness Center told the 130 lb. me that really, for my height and build, I ought to weigh 120? Makes me actually scream.)

I was a size 8 in everything. If I needed to buy clothes, I always immediately headed for the size 8s and the Mediums. I remember being surprised when I needed to get new pants and I got the size 6s.

My measurements back then?

Chest: 88 cm (oh yes, I was going to train myself to use centimeters back then) 34.6 in.
Waist: 26.8 in.
Hips: (actually measured at hipbones—who knew you were supposed to measure lower down?) 33.85 in.
Thigh: 21.85 in.
Calf: 13.18 in.

As I said in the previous entry, I’ve lost 30 pounds recently and I am planning on a few more besides. During my recent shopping expeditions, I’ve discovered that I am at least a size 8 at every place I’ve tried on clothing, and often have been size 6, and today I managed to snag my second size 4 denim skirt (this time at the Gap, woot!). My current measurements?

Chest: 35 in.
Waist: 29.5 in
Hips: 34.75 in.
Thigh: 23.5 in.
Calf: 14 in.

(And while everything else has gone down, sometimes dramatically, my calf size has not changed at all since I started this weight loss journey. TOTALLY UNFAIR.)

But…but…how can that be? How can I be a smaller size now when I am clearly larger than I was many years and 18 pounds ago?

The answer that many people give me is: Vanity sizing.

To which I say: Not so much.

“Vanity sizing” is the term many people give to the fact that clothing sizes today seem to be grossly inflated over their counterparts for yesteryear, yet the numbers haven’t changed. Why else would a woman who’s bigger than her 22 year old self be able to fit into smaller clothes?

There are lots of good explanations of this on the Web. Here’s a particularly cogent one, nicely entitled The Myth of Vanity Sizing, which includes many links to discussions of the topic. The short answer is: Sizes are simply a reflection of the customer base for that manufacturer. A “medium” is the middle size, and the small and large sizes are derived from that. Most of the customers for a brand are going to hit the Medium size (or size 10? 12? I can’t remember what’s considered exact medium). So when trying to gauge sizes, a manufacturer brings in a couple of hundred women in their target market, takes their measurements, figures out what the medium of that is, and makes patterns accordingly.

If you want to blame anyone for grade inflation when it comes to clothing sizes, take a look in the mirror: it’s the American public.

(It does sound like women who are very tiny are really having a hard time of it—there aren’t enough of them to make it worth most manufacturers time to design clothes for them. Perhaps there is a marketing niche some designers need to aim for: ready-to-wear sizes beyond 0 and 00.)

One response often given when discussing the unfairness of clothing sizes is, “Why can’t we do what men do and measure things by waist + in-seam, or by inches, or whatever?” And the fact of the matter is, you still wouldn’t be able to find anything directly in your size. Women’s bodies tend to be somewhat more varied than men’s, I think—the stick who still has a large chest, the curvy girl, or everyone’s favorite, the one whose top and bottom vary by 3 sizes or more. A manufacturer can’t possibly make enough garments to cover all of those possibilities, so you’d still be buying the dress that’s much too large for the rest of you simply to fit over your thighs.

And now you know why I don’t wear pencil skirts. I can’t find one that fits both my waist (which tends to be tiny) and my thighs (which tend…not).