Things in the apartment are going well. We're getting along. Not much to say, I guess, except that he has horrible eating habits, and I have a stack of tiny jeans that cut off my circulation to prove it.

I no longer fit into ANY of my jeans.... like, not even my comfy jeans.

This has happened in less than ONE MONTH! When I packed up to move, I tried on literally every piece of clothing I own to throw out (via donating) what didn't fit. So everything I moved in with was the correct size. I haven't been wearing jeans because it's hot as balls outside, but I haven't been doing laundry either, so when I was getting dressed for work a couple days ago, I was forced to wear them--or so I thought. Not a single pair fit. Most wouldn't button, the one's that would I couldn't sit in. I ended up having to borrow William's pants, and I was late to work.

I am not a happy camper about this. Especially since I can't afford new clothes (especially not since I'm not shopping at Walmart).