Tightening the Belt

As if the dwindling numbers on the scale weren’t proof enough, I’ve got another pretty definite sign that I’m losing weight:  I’m absolutely swimming in my clothes lately.  For the last few years, size 40 waists and 2XL shirts have been the norm, necessitated by the mound of extra me around the middle.  Of course, they didn’t fit great everywhere else, but that’s what happens when you’re shaped roughly like a bowling pin.

But the pants eventually started feeling more and more loose, which meant pulling the belt tighter and tighter.  And since I’d needed a pretty long belt to fit around my equator, the result was pants bunched up and one end of my belt sticking out way too far.  So the first order of business was a smaller belt.  The pants still bunched up a little, but at least I didn’t have this embarrassing extra flap of leather hanging off my waist.

Last week I finally decided to start getting some new clothes.  I’d been hesitant, partly because I know I still have more to lose, partly  because in the back of my mind was the possibility I’d fall of the wagon and need the big clothes again at some point.  But I eventually put that bit of pessimism behind me and made my way into a fitting room at Target with some size 36 jeans and a large shirt.  Yeah, a big jump, but I figured I’d go for the gusto so that backing off to a slightly larger size wouldn’t feel so bad.  The jeans just weren’t happening though.  I could get them closed, but not without permanent injury to some parts I’m rather fond of.  The shirt I actually got buttoned without any problems, but it fell just on the uncomfortable side of snug.  Not enough to be depressing, but just enough.  Still, it felt pretty damn good getting that last button done without having to inhale for a minute first.

So I slipped on a pair of size 38 jeans and … they fit.  So much so that I had to remind myself they weren’t tight, that this was how jeans were supposed to feel.  And I was actually wearing them somewhat around my waist rather than tucked underneath my gut.  It felt a little weird, but mostly from lack of familiarity.  It’s been at least a decade since I’ve been this thin (relatively speaking), and it’s going to take some getting used to.

The idea now is to pick up one or two new pieces of clothing each week, slowly rotating out the circus tents.  If all goes as planned, I’ll be replacing the new threads eventually as well, but for now, I need to look a little less like The Incredible Shrinking Man.  All things considered, it’s a great problem to have.


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