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There go my pants...

My best-laid plans to get a proper pair of jeans have gang aft agley, and there is a hole in my last pair of pants, and my unprotected skin is peeking through.

Which means I have to go and spend money ahead of the time when we can completely afford it.

Curse planned obsolescence to the five hells.

But I am definitely going to get the pants that are cheap, well-made, and have decent fucking pockets. Which means I shall be shopping in the bloke's department. Who knows? I might even be able to find a pair of trews with a waistline somewhere near my equator. But I doubt it.

Meanwhile, my elixir of life has been working to help me approach food again. Though I am somewhat limited in what I want to eat. Digestive bikkies definitely help, but only for two or three at a time. And instant Chook Noodles, too.

I have the worst GD diet.

On the plus side - WEEKEND! I can go shopping and not have the little darlings in tow. Get myself fitted etc so I finally know my pants size. I'm pretty sure I'll wind up in the fat racks, regardless.

Story soon. I have yet to have breakfast.