The Closet and the Scale
I've had to empty half my wardrobe because I just don't fit into most of my stuff anymore. Blame it on the sweets. Or blame it on the binging on all the fabulous food at all the fabulous parties the past season had to offer. Or blame it on the rain.
I don't know.
Just don't blame it on me.
Because I honestly don't know how it happened.
I don't know how I went from a size 20 waist (ok, that was a whiiiiiile back) to a size 30 waist (ok, maybe 30 something, less than 40 anyway, so there).
So here I am, de-cluttering.
No metaphors really, just taking stuff out of my closets & putting them into an ever increasingly full suitcase.
One faces lots of dilemmas when junking old clothes:
- Ought you to keep the clothes you totally love, even though they don't fit you anymore? Especially when there's sentiment attached to them?
- What about the clothes, that you almost (almost) fit into, when you breathe out deeply, suck in your stomach completely (ok, as much as you can) and then, they almost (almost) just fit?
- What should you do with the old clothes? Vinnies? Call up friends? (I prefer doing the latter first & then it's off to Vinnies usually)
And then there's the whole "Clothes : Weight Theory" . That you fit into the Clothes that are in your closet. So if you want to lose weight (the theory goes), keep clothes that are the ideal size you want to be. Don't beat me up, this wasn't my great theory, it was explained to me by so-called-friend, minutes after he berated me for putting on "so much weight".
He didn't beat around the bush. Unlike the people who call you "healthy". You know, not the nice ones trying not to use the word "fat", but the nasty ones who are pretending to be nice:
"My, my, Melody, you're certainly looking... healthy" *smirk smirk*Back to junking clothes though, one also makes lots of realizations like, we love spandex. In fact, I want to take a moment here and give spandex the credit it deserves. Go Spandex, you are truly a friend who grows with us.
Unlike those pants, that don't even make it up my hips. Like my oh-so-expensive pair of black Versace jeans (yes, they were a gift before you ask) which I had to huff and puff and blow the house down and I still didn't fit into. After almost 5 minutes of jumping: left leg kick in air, pull, right leg kick in air, pull, buttocks squat, pull - I realised the workout I was having wasn't helping me reduce the weight I needed to get into the dash pair. C'est la vie.
It had a belt with it, and I thought, let me at least keep the belt; the people who go to Vinnies don't need a Versace AND a belt. Until I realised it just about fit me on the last loop. Pseudo benevolence kicked in again & I decided not to separate pant from belt.
There are also lots of other things one realizes. For instance, one had Hideous taste in clothes like, upto 3.5 minutes ago. WHY oh why are there so many hideous clothes in my closet? Seriously, I'm talking high waisted pants, Bell botts (which are sure to come back into fashion the minute the guys from Vinnies come around to pick up my stuff) and purple animal print leggings. Seriously, when were those ever in vogue?
And I've discovered I so can do S&Ms. I have enough of leather. Pants, shorts, skirts. Now I just need to buy a whip (& perhaps some 'cuffs) & I'll be good to go.
But enough of grumbling already. For the longest time my stomach was like an endless pit that could down any amounts of junk food without it showing anywhere on my body. Gone are those days. And while I'm thankful for those days (& sorry for the times I made fun of those who used to try & diet while I gorged pizza after pizza in front of them) I have reached almost the top of the hill and I need to be all determined and such.
So, resolution time: LOSE SOME WEIGHT.
Present weight: 54 kgs.
Ideal weight: 50 kgs.
Which if you think about it is just 4 kgs (yeah, I'm brilliant at Math) and with my young metabolism etc I'm sure it can be done. Watch this space. 2008 is going to be Melody's-blog-turns-Bridget-Jones-diary. Except that I'm not addicted to alcohol or smokes. Though I do like 'em English men.
But that's stuff for another post.
Meanwhile, I'm still eating & checking the scale. FYI, it hasn't budged an inch. Sigh.
The Closet and the Scale
- » Published on February 22, 2008
- » Type: Satire
- » Filed under:
Author: Melody Laila
- Subscribe to RSS 2.0 feeds for:
- » Comments on this article
- » Culture
- » Culture: Women
- » Culture: Urban
- » Culture: Satire
- » Culture: Personal History
- » Culture: Health
- » Culture: Food And Drink
- » Culture: Consumerism
- » Desicritics.org articles by Melody Laila
- » All Satire articles
- » All Desicritics.org articles