Three flights of open-air stairs didn’t decrease my waistline; I maintained my 5’11 size-22 figure through restaurants: out, take-out, delivery. After I’d started going to the gym, eating at Chipotle, and the car ride home with my feet drawn up under me on the passenger side, panic attack with wanting to purge. ‘It takes 45 minutes to burn off one yogurt,’ I thought, then gradually increased my gym time so I could burn off (without actually eating) three, then four yogurts. I remember with this flabby body training the younger flabby body using the corset of the gym into a size 4. Hands on my hips to feel bones straining out. Shifts along the fault lines of my body; quaking with nothing inside but coffee and an occasional latte. The Oilily saleswoman glanced at me, then handed me the coat in size 2. ‘That won’t fit me,’ I said. ‘I need at least an 8.’ She laughed, and shooed me into the dressing room. Astonishment of a new continent, it fit.