Mama Cass Lives
I now have fat clothes and skinny clothes.
Unlike my daddy counterparts, I am not losing weight this summer. I’m putting it on. Did I look Ally McBeal-like to begin with? No, not really. But I’m not really spending a great deal of time keeping myself in shape.
We started swimming this winter. Three evenings a week we were at the pool, gradually increasing from 20 laps to 50. I felt great and actually was building up the faintest sign of muscle in my arms. Well, if you looked at the correct angle in the best light.
But I haven’t been swimming since July 5. It’s beginning to show.
On Friday, I had 17 pairs of pants in my closet. Two fit well and one was fine if I sucked my gut in and didn’t mind a red colored indentation along my gut. My coworkers had been successfully predicting what pants I’d wear for the past two weeks the licking had become that slim.
So I made the decision to upsize on Saturday. I certainly am not in ToughSkins ‘husky level’ but let me tell you how wonderful it is to breathe again. After three minutes of shopping I now was armed with 33” Dockers in the standard navy and olive to join the very lonely kackie that hung in the closet at home.
To the basement went the all the 32s”. I felt a little like Kirstie Alley in her battle tosound coherent in a commercial keep the pounds off long enough to make it to the next weekend. Poor Larry will have to become a chub-chaser if this keeps up.
A friend asked me when I’d be moving up to 34”.
We don’t speak any longer.
Unlike my daddy counterparts, I am not losing weight this summer. I’m putting it on. Did I look Ally McBeal-like to begin with? No, not really. But I’m not really spending a great deal of time keeping myself in shape.
We started swimming this winter. Three evenings a week we were at the pool, gradually increasing from 20 laps to 50. I felt great and actually was building up the faintest sign of muscle in my arms. Well, if you looked at the correct angle in the best light.
But I haven’t been swimming since July 5. It’s beginning to show.
On Friday, I had 17 pairs of pants in my closet. Two fit well and one was fine if I sucked my gut in and didn’t mind a red colored indentation along my gut. My coworkers had been successfully predicting what pants I’d wear for the past two weeks the licking had become that slim.
So I made the decision to upsize on Saturday. I certainly am not in ToughSkins ‘husky level’ but let me tell you how wonderful it is to breathe again. After three minutes of shopping I now was armed with 33” Dockers in the standard navy and olive to join the very lonely kackie that hung in the closet at home.
To the basement went the all the 32s”. I felt a little like Kirstie Alley in her battle to
A friend asked me when I’d be moving up to 34”.
We don’t speak any longer.
posted by Anonymous at
10:25:00 AM
6 Comments:
Oh man, do I hear you. I had to move up a size this summer in my shorts, and was I pissed. And a little depressed. I've pledged to eat better, exercise more so I don't have to go through that again. I should say, yet again, since I had to do it last year too. I'm blaming it on slowing metabulism. How about you?
Ha, ha, ha, ha
33's - ha, ha, ha, ha
I haven't seen a size 33 waist since...um...let's see...1987. The closest I came was right after basic training and I had to buy 34's (I tried the 33's but they were just a tad snug). Now I just look longingly at my 36's.
38 and proud. Well maybe proud is too strong, excepting?
I have an out. My partner is larger than me, so I feel as long as I can keep that lead, I don't have to pay attention to the numbers.
That's tiny! 33" is like a pre-teen bra size.
I know just what you're talking about: once I started to have to carry smelling salts with me around the office, I knew it was time to face reality and go for the 34s. Blessed relief: pants that fit!
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