Before I get started: I’ve been without internet connection for about three days, and it’s been AWFUL. I have felt bereft.
My jeans don’t fit me anymore. I’ve known for some time that I’ve been getting heavier. I’ve done a splendid job of filing this expanding state of affairs somewhere in the back of my brain; category: ‘things I know but don’t really want to formally acknowledge’. It’s a popular category in recent months. Indeed, I fear this backwater category is, by sheer dint of its increasing volume, straining out of the back of my brain and forcing me to confront it face-to-face. Mano-a-mano.
I tend to put weight on in the Winter months anyway, but with a lack of exercise added in, things have become uncomfortable. I haven’t been this heavy for years and years, if ever. My size 14 (formerly ‘fat’ jeans) now shriek ‘what are you trying to do to me?’ when I attempt to squeeze into them.
To add insult to injury, I have had to instigate a surreptitious ritual every time I have to wear freshly washed jeans. Okay, so you know how jeans always tighten up when they’re freshly washed? They always ‘give’ again once they’ve been worn a while, but recently I’ve been putting them on without zipping up. And here’s the reason: I need to let them stretch while I wear them in – “Yes, Jeans, I know you were not meant to accommodate this extra hip fat, but I shall not take No! for an answer. I will haul you up, underneath my dressing gown, then, bit by bit, I shall tug your zip, closing the gap, before reaching top button nirvana.” Then I can whip my dressing gown off and finish getting dressed.
The Final Blow
I’m pretty sensitive about my weight. I don’t like being this big, but I also don’t like dieting. I use food to comfort and, since my CFS/Winter Blues flare ups, I’ve eaten more, exercised less. I hate not being able to exercise as much as I once did and food sometimes fills the gap that exercise used to (mood-lifting). I’m taking steps, trying to reintroduce the gym and trying to get my strength back.
You know, a girl doesn’t like to go up a dress size. I’ve been in denial for a while, determined not to go out and buy clothes I would actually feel comfortable in, that don’t dig in around the waist and leave me with a muffin-top. I just couldn’t face it.
Today, however, I have decided to get myself some new jeans. As I was completing the aforementioned squeeze-into-your-jeans technique today, something untoward happened. I’d got the jeans on, had breakfast, still unzipped, but hopeful that soon I would be scaling the heights of Mount Zip. After using the bathroom I thought this would be an ideal opportunity to start climbing. I was a little over-zealous, grabbing the zip key and yanking, rather than the creep-creep-creep approach that is to be preferred for this process.
Skrunk! (This is the noise I heard. No word exists for the noise a zip makes when dying, but this comes as near as I can get it)
Something flies across the bathroom, hits the wall and drops to the floor like an electrocuted insect.
I look down.
It all happened so fast. I couldn’t see anything. How could I know?
Not only has the zip key flown to freedom, it has also taken with it the bottom stop along with a couple of teeth from the main bit.
My zip is a gonner.
I have decided to go and get myself some cheap bigger jeans. Actually, not bigger. I still don’t want to go above size 14, but with judicious choosing of stores I can obtain a pair that will fit better until I can lose a bit of weight. I went to the gym yesterday, so I’m really going to make an effort now.
That said, I don’t think upping the exercise is going to do much if I don’t sort out my ridiculously sweet tooth and propensity to comfort eat.