I am apparently a Counselor.

Okay, it's later in the day and I am once again feeling fat. There is only one good reason in the world for PMS: it gives women an excuse to lie about their size. "Oh, it's just water weight!" "I'm bloating!"

Bah. Face it, toots, that's not just H2O you're packing. You're a bona fide candidate for lipo suction now so stop whining and head to the larger sizes.

Which is the sort of mental conversation I had with myself while cruising the Bon and Coldwater Creek. I've decided that when I'm rich, I'm going to buy all my clothes from Jones New York because they are so me. Meanwhile, I can afford their items only off the clearance rack, hence the trip to the Bon.

I will say one nice thing about gaining weight: it has enhanced my bustsize. In fact, I can't fit into the push up gel-filled bra I bought at Victoria's Secret last year any longer because I ooze right on out of it. That was a very spendy bra. I hope to lose enough weight to be able to need it to provide some cleavage again.

Back to clothes. I bought two pairs of pants. One because it has an elastic waistband and the other because it has a lovely label -- strEEEEEtch fabric! I had never thought I'd see the day where elastic waistbands were a cause for celebration. I never imagined myself wearing strEEEEEtch fabric for what it will conceal rather than reveal.

I want to be okay with this size. But I am so conditioned to being something else, and water-gain or no, I'm not happy today over it. It preys on my mind. I used to be thin without trying. Now I'm not. I feel like inside I'm trapped in another age, like those women who continue to dye their hair jet black long into their 60s because that's what they used to be before they went grey. This is something I've never had to deal with before and it frightens me that I won't be able to handle it -- by which I really mean, return to my "normal" weight. I don't know how other women put up with weight gain. I've never had to know until now.