Losing It

Since moving to Chicago I've lost about 25 pounds.  I'm not doing anything crazy, just eating smartly and my new job keeps me on my feet moving.  While I'm super excited to lose the weight, I'm not crazy about going shopping for new clothes.  1.  I hate shopping.  Never ask me to go shopping with you.  I'm the get in and get out girl.  I have anxiety about the crowds.  The screaming kids annoy me.  The ever present sales person pisses me off.  I usually leave with nothing,  which pisses me off even more, resulting in me not wanting to return for what I wanted in the first place.  2.  Spending money on myself activates my anxiety.  I feel guilty spending money on myself.  There are so many things I should be spending money on.  There are so many other things that need to be bought.  There are so many other...  You get the drift.  So combine those two things with the fact I really don't know what size I am anymore and you get the amazing trifecta that is me.
That leaves just one problem.  I am actually walking out of most my clothes.  Pants fall down when I walk, a belt gives me a homeless look, my bra can't go any tighter and my shirts no longer have a shape.  This leaves me making myself conquer my anxieties and get my but to a store.
My go to store has been Lane Bryant for several years.  They have great cut clothes, at a great price that last a long time.  Even when I was a size 14 I had hips and LB makes clothes for curves.  And their clothes are super cute.
I walk in ready to go to war.  My goal: get one pair of jeans and a bra.  My spending limit: $150. 
As I walk up to the jean wall my eyes glaze over.  There is nothing like picking a size that is too small to crush your highs of weight lose.  There is nothing worse then picking a size too big, resulting in confusion and more unwanted time spent spending money.  Thankfully an annoying sales person sees my need for help and comes right over.  I quickly explain I have no clue what size I am.  She asks me to lift my jacket and turn around.  After a quick look at my booty she delivers the verdict.  18, curvy.  18?  I instantly think she has no clue what she's doing.  I've not been an 18 in about 10 years.  The last time I bought jeans they were a size 22 or 24.  I don't remember because I cut the tag out.  I laugh at her.  She sees my fear.  I take a 20 and an 18.  I know that I wont fit into the smaller size.  On the walk to the dressing room pissed at the sales lady for getting my hopes up.  I'm actually so mad that I plan on leaving after I try the jeans on.  I close the door behind me and prepare myself to wiggle into a pair if jeans that wont come over one thigh.  I was wrong.  They easily passed my thighs.  The easily went past my hips. They zipped without concern and buttoned without a wiggle.  I jumped for joy.  Seriously.  I did a dance in the dressing room.  That peaky sales lady knew her shit!
I was able to get one pair of jeans, 2 bras (I went down 4 inches in the band), 3 shirts and a pair of ear rings all for $118. 
Today I got a coupon in the mail from LB.  I'm going back this weekend.