I bought a pair of pajama shorts about a month ago.

They’re the kind of thing I normally wouldn’t waste money on because who the heck is ever going to see me in pajama shorts? (See: Crystal, single, eternity). But I decided they were my reward for losing weight.

My $12, heck ya, I can pull these off and look decent enough to strut around the house, shorts.  My, this is someting I need to realize my body is officially different, shorts. My, I haven’t bought any pair of shorts at all ever for the last nine years. (Seriously. Nine years.) shorts.

My lovely blue-green plaid-patterned with a sky-blue bow in the front, shorts.

Every time I wear them the reward sensors in my brain go off and I’m happy all over again that I’ve lost weight. It’s still really hard for me to understand that I look different. For me, the weight came off too slowly to notice, and I feel the same on the inside, so I constantly wonder if the whole thing was all in my head.

But these shorts remind me that I am definitely different.

And I love them for it.