I’ve been working my a** off for months to, well, work off my a**. I am now a size 10, which I think is the lowest size I’ve ever worn.

Moments ago one of my neighbors, a 23-year-old adorable girl named Katie who is approximately the size of a comma, came out to the porch, where I’m working on my new laptop.

She had a pair of jeans in her hand. “Beth, these are a little too big in the waist for me, and I thought you might be able to wear them.”

First I looked for the ghost of Alan Funt and the Candid Camera team. Then I grabbed the jeans with glee and ran to try them on.

Ok, so they did not come anywhere close to fitting. But when I brought them back, she said, “Oh, I guessed you and I were about the same size, so I thought they might fit.”

She thought *I* was *her* size????? I shall live on her assumption for the rest of my days.

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