Average Jane, Land Monster

It's funny how much weight gain denial I am capable of. Admittedly, I'm currently extra bloated from the cavalcade of prescription pharmaceuticals that are still working their way through my system, conquering my bronchitis as they go. Still, I know a problem when I see one. (And I happen to know exactly how much I weigh right now, thanks to my doctor visit on Sunday.)

I just finished trying on every article of corporate wear that I own. I have meetings tomorrow and the next day that require me to be considerably more presentable than usual, so I hit the long-term storage closet to see what I could dig up.

It turns out that I was a size 8 the last time I had occasion to dress up on a regular basis. I am…not a size 8 now. Or a 10. Maybe a 12, but today I wouldn't even take that bet.

So all my suits are completely out of the question. I tried on several pairs of slacks and although a few of them made it past the thunder thighs, buttoning them would have defied the laws of physics. My jackets were all in the category of "fat guy in a little coat." 

The last time I put myself through the same ordeal, I ended up buying a pair of voluminous black slacks which I still have. They're not exactly stylish, but at least they don't cut me in half at the waist. I'll be wearing them both days, thank you very much.

Then there was the issue of what kind of top to wear. I dug out a decent looking black tank top to pair with the world's most durable silk blouse. (Seriously, I've had this Casual Corner blouse since the 1980s. It's been dry cleaned two dozen times or more and it still looks great.) For Thursday, I dragged out a black, sleeveless shell and a pashmina I got in our department gift exchange last Christmas. I figure if I can't fit in my jackets, I'll just wear a shawl.

So obviously this can't go on. My diet is terrible and I don't get anywhere near enough exercise. I spend a disgraceful amount of time sitting: in front the computer, in front of the TV, on the couch with a book. One yoga class every other week isn't cutting it.

I have a plan, though. It won't be fun and I know I'm going to have a really hard time motivating myself, but it's better than continuing to Jabba-the-Hutt-ify myself. The self-improving misery begins Saturday. I hope I'm ready.