I'm Melting

But why?
When I first started losing weight after returning from Africa, it was a good thing. After all, none of my clothes fit. I averaged around a size 12, 16 in some sewing patterns. Mommy was wearing all my old clothes and I was either stretching things out in my stubborn determination to wear them, or using skirts for tops.
The funny thing is, I don't think I ever felt as beautiful as I did in Zambia. Maybe it's the whole fat is good culture-thing, or maybe it's my adoration of 40's pin-up models, who happened to have a lot more curves than modern models. I certainly had curves. Now, I'm sort of pointy.
Last week, I was fixing my outfit. Something was sticking out on my skirt, so I went to smooth it down, thinking my shirt was tucked in funny. Boy was I surprised; it was my hip bone. The other day I wore a really cute pair of pants that Mommy helped me hem during the school year. When I got them, I could barely button them. This week, I spent much of my time pulling them up because they kept slipping down. Getting ready for Harmony Fest on Saturday, I pulled out my favorite pair of dress shorts from last summer. Grey wool with red and yellow speckles. I wore them often last summer in Venice, out to the club, because they made my ass look so nice. They didn't go to Harmony Fest. They were far too big; I had no ass. My Apple Bottoms look like potato sacks and my wife beaters like I've beaten them up. Even some of my clothes from high school look too big!
Yes, I'll admit it, I was super excited to discover I fit in a size 5. My 5'4", 19 yr old sister wears a 5. I think I might have worn one once before, when I was about 14. I was definitely bigger than that when I started modeling. I wonder what the agency that told me I was too big when I was 17 yrs old would say to me now? I'd probably still be too big for them. After all, I still have that extra chin.
Society says I should be grateful - look how many people are always trying to lose weight. I'll bet I get plenty of comments (written or thought) along the lines of "I wish I had your problem" or "lucky". But it sucks when your favorite clothes don't fit. And I don't want an excuse to buy more. I'm 27, where's my Schlaikowski-family heirloom Daddy promised me?
Back to my original question: why? I can't figure this one out. I eat so much one of my good friends has taken to calling me "cow". I have a diet in the sense there are things I'll eat or won't eat, but I'm not on a diet. I just only eat things that make me happy. Soda, chips, fried stuff - doesn't make me happy. Cheese, milk, salads - make me happy. I started making a conscious effort to eat more protein in order to avoid the weak spells that make me cranky and lethargic. I thought that would equal gaining weight, not losing more. I was wrong. Protein fills me up; I eat less carbs. I drink those meal shakes, but not as a meal, as a snack between my 3 or 4 meals to hold me over. And I don't try to exercise. I just do my regular stuff - walking a little under 2 miles a day as part of my work commute, dancing around my room, etc.
The question becomes, when do I need to be concerned? If I'm eating balanced meals and not getting sick, is it enough? Maybe I should go on an ice cream diet. Or just only eat Leon's when I'm home this month.
(Original Post)

Bed
Worried

Roommate in the Fridge