Back to Lydia...
“Better get dressed!” Lydia Warren said as she stood back up and grabbed her shorts from the counter. She went to pull them back on and froze. She held the shorts up and stared in disbelief. They had definitely shrunk since she had taken them off. Now she wouldn’t even be able to get her feet into the leg holes, let alone pull them up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” She gasped. She sat back down on the floor next to Buster, testing a theory. The dog was able to step right into them. She cursed under her breath and hurried to the closet, Buster in tow, still wearing the shorts, trying to find something to wear. Every pair of jeans or skirt felt too constricted, even the larger items she'd bought the previous evening, and she ended up sitting back down, frustrated. Buster patted her arm gently with his paw.
Here she was, stuck at home, unless she wanted to go out without anything on below the waist. But her dog had a wide variety of clothes, not that it helped.
"I think I'd better call out today," she remarked to the dog. "Or find someone to bring me something to wear." She reached for her phone and called work to tell them, then dialed the number that the Doctors had given her. Maybe they could make a house call. After she left a message, she sat down next to Buster and turned on the TV.
