Lil' fatty

Okay, so for those of you who read about my plight with last-minute shopping at Target for interview clothes (BTW, I successfully returned them all, even the mean little shoes); you know I've gained some weight since surgery. Now, that's okay--considering I went from walking several miles around NYC and doing an hour to two of yoga everyday to doing absolutely nothing, it's to be expected. It's uncomfortable and inconvenient, sure, but if it means I get to keep my own leg, a little extra girth is hunky-dory with me. To celebrate payday today I went to Buffalo Exchange (a trendy 2nd hand store in Denver) and purchased a $9 pair of pants. Nice. However, I noticed they were THREE sizes bigger than the size I was pre-surgery last December. To add to the cruel awakening, the pants I picked had...wait for it...elastic. That's right, elastic in the waist. A few more months of this and I'll be shopping for muumuus.

Standing in the too-cool changing room I had a scary thought...but first, let me take a moment to describe the setting to you: These changing rooms are tall cylinders with brightly colored Plexiglas walls, and they are on wheels. It was a psychedelic experience standing in the small space surrounded by neon-kiwi bendy walls. Plus, they don't provide a real seat--it might cramp the cylinder's style. All they have is a metal T-shaped bar sticking out of the wall, which I think you're not actually supposed to use to rest your rump, but perhaps just as a spot to place your foot as you delicately untie your laces. How did I come to this conclusion? Because--being on crutches and needing a seat--I tried to sit on the unforgiving bar and what happened? The entire cylinder-on-wheels tipped. Yes, that’s right. My newly-fat ass made the DRESSING ROOM TIP. It went WA-WOMP. So here I am hopping around, dizzy from the Fun-house effects, trying to get my leg through a pair of pants while making sure to not a. put weight on my one leg that's at risk of catastrophic fracture and b. trying not to put any undo pressure on the “room” so I don't make the giant cylinder go WA-WOMP again, or worse, tip over completely, with me inside like a pig in a blanket. And that's when I had my scary thought:

What if the reason my hardware is at risk is because I've gotten too fat?! Maybe the doctors specially designed the plates and screws for the original-sized Sara, and now my rapid weight gain is making the hardware sag under the pressure of me, like an IKEA bookshelf with too many hardcover books.