My room is silting up with clothes. As "they" do every summer, this summer, "they" declared it the summer of brights! And for one, "they" and I were in synch. So I've embraced them, the brights. They make me happy. But now I'm at the point where I have to keep cycling things in and out. I'm not really complaining. This is a dandy little problem to have.
Back in April, when I hauled myself off to the doctor, I could barely fit into size 22 skirts. They were getting snug. That's fat, I'm sorry. Just fat. I'm not that tall. Jeans were a joke and I'm sure that in them I bordered on the risible.
I like fashion, and clothes, though, so I just kept switching off to things that I could wear, where I looked presentable, but those choices were getting smaller and smaller. I did order some new clothes, though.
I like them. I really like the skirt in blurred shades of red, yellow, orange--a bit of green thrown in. A pencil skirt. The last time I wore that pencil skirt, though, I took it off without undoing it. It's a 22. I can probably wear it a while longer. I think, because of my Caesarean flap (my little pet...) that a garment has to be at least two sizes too big before it falls off. So anyway, I probably have a bit longer, but IT is a bit longer than it used to be, too. I have a sateen skirt from Talbots that I also really like. It's red. I like red. It comes off without being unfastened, as well. Both of these are pretty nice skirts and so I can't just wash them hot and hope they'll shrink, as I've done before.
I ordered some new clothes. All the summer stuff is on sale. (This is ironic, since today is the Solstice). I decided to go with 20s. (There is a whole thing about plus-size women never trying on clothes before they buy them, and I agree. I do that. Dressing rooms are simply too dispiriting for me). A cargo skirt, size 20, is sort of big. I'm not sure about it. I went way out on a limb and ordered red skinny jeans. Well, they're skinny at the bottom, but not so skinny at the top. So I'll try them, and they might fit for a while--and there are always belts, which I probably last wore in 1992. A long top. But then, a size 20 skirt that I ordered in a fit of optimism, prior to April, certainly fits better than it did, but is not quite comfortable. I'm afraid we're going to go right through fits to doesn't fit, because I'll have neglected to try it on one week. It wasn't cheap, that's the thing.
Where did I first notice that my clothes were getting bigger? My nightgown, of all things. I noticed one day that it was hitting my knees and I hadn't ever felt it hit my knees before. The bathrobe that I got for Mother's Day is also getting bigger and bigger. Again, these are good problems to have. I'm not sure if I'll give them away, or stash them--I know you're supposed to give them away, and in the past I have, but then gained the weight back, and my beloved wardrobe was gone. But you are supposed to give them away. As incentive. So I probably will.....
Added to the problems of trying clothes on today is the fact that it hit 101 and who knows how anything fits?
And, in other news--tomorrow I go for my blood test. This will determine if I have to go on cholesterol meds, and more importantly, where I stand in the diabetes sweepstakes. All I can say is cross your fingers. I don't want more meds. This is what all this is about, not the clothes. The clothes are an off-label side-effect, more or less. The point is to be healthier. The point is to take charge of my life.
My cousin...who is more obese than I am, trust me on this one....is on blood pressure and cholesterol meds and is flirting, too, with diabetes. But her side of the family doesn't have it and mine does, so my chances are better than hers. But--and I'm truly NOT trying to be holier than thou, here--I look at her, and I wonder why she won't do anything. Of course, all my salads may not have amounted to a row of beans (get it, that's funny, right?) and I'll be there whether I want to or not. In which case I can throw my words into one of my salads and eat them.
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