Just me and the Oompa-Loompas.

I've been looking pretty good lately. I haven't lost any more weight and I'm hovering in that purgatory between normal sizes and plus sizes which is making shopping for anything a cringe-worthy experience, so I don't have Weightwatchers to thank for my new boost in confidence.

My most favourite moments are when some little girl the size of my right leg knocks on the change room door to make sure I haven't died in there and asks if I need any other sizes. I would love to say yes, but I know perfectly well that the pants I can't close around my ass are the largest size in the store and to ask for anything larger would lead to a very awkward moment. Thank Goddess I'm so tall because if I was any shorter I'd have the shape and consistency of a cream puff pastry.

And yet, three people have stopped me today to tell me how good I'm looking so let's hear it for harmful UV rays! Yes, I've been taking my life into my own hands and tanning. I am naturally rather pale, and by rather pale I mean vampiric, so at first the staff at my tanning salon seemed hesitant to take my money and stick me in a bed for fear of lawsuits and or explosions but I've been surprising everyone.

For the first time ever, I have some colour in my face which has led several people to tell me I'm looking 'well-rested.' In actual fact I haven't been sleeping very well due to lying awake worrying about my chin, my back, my pelvic region, my finances, my parents, my home, my future and whether or not my next door neighbor can hear me pee, as I can hear him pee through the apartment wall between our bathrooms, which is disconcerting.

I can see how people start tanning indoors and then not know when to stop. It's warm and relaxing and for the entire duration of your session you're not expected to do anything but just lie there. This doesn't excuse the women who tan themselves into Chicken McNuggets but I think I'm vain enough to escape that fate.

My only concern so far is the white stripe I've developed down either side of my body, making me look like the world's lightest and largest Oreo cookie. I'm trying to remedy this, and it's reminding me why people say they're "working" on their tans. It is actual work.

My goal in exposing myself to skin cancer is to cover up my inability to lose substantive amounts of weight. Much like in a house, if you're unhappy with the walls, you paint them. I'm painting my rear end, and it's working wonders.