No, I’m not talking about the tasty the muffin top of the tasty variety.
Unfortunately, this entry is dedicated to the fashion faux pas.
Have you ever gotten dressed and known you were committing a fashion faux pas but said “To hell with it!” and left the house like that anyway? Well, today was my first really occasion to do this, with the exception of that one time I wore brown leggings with a black outfit because I neglected to shave my legs before court, and they were all that was clean. That time really doesn’t count because my strategy was to play as if I didn’t realize they weren’t black before I left the house if anyone said something.
Anyway, here is what happened: For the first time in a week and a half, my firm required the attorneys to come into the office. Well, I figured there wouldn’t be many people there, we had a Nor’easter hit the night before which dumped about nine inches of snow, many people haven’t had power for days, and the boss told us to dress in layers because we may not have heat or power. Therefore, I rationalized wearing jeans to the office. Fine; tons of people wore jeans today-- many even rocked a hooded sweatshirt like myself.
So, what’s the problem and thereby the point of this rambling story you ask? Well, I CAN’T wear jeans—they simply don’t fit. I didn’t realize over the summer that I had outgrown my jeans because it was always too warm for them. Now, my drastic weight gain is a depressing reality. My pairs of everyday skinny jeans do not go over my thighs. Putting them on resembles the strange jig I do to get into pantyhose. Just image lots of strange stretching and accidental pinching of skin followed by lots of frustration and whining. To make matters worse, my fat jeans are VERY, very tight. We’re talking standard cut jeans two sizes bigger than my usual size. Why is it that these 18 pounds only landed between my knees and my belly button?! Like my thighs weren’t large enough!
Well, what was I going to do? It was snowy and I needed to wear snow boots. Last winter, my snow boots barely fit over my thunder calves. There was no way I was getting much under those now that I’m feeling like Fatty McButter Pants. Well, knowing all my leggings were dirty-- after all, what else does a couch potato like myself wear when you’ve been stuck at home for the past 11 days? Of course all my sweatpants, leggings, pajama pants, and all other pants with elastic waists are dirty!—I turned to my skin jeans and I did the stocking jig, laid on the bed, and whined a whole lot followed by even more self-loathing as I continued to get ready for work with my pants unbuttoned and unzipped in hopes that they would stretch. There was even a point when I seriously contemplated at least making my hour commute with my pants undone. Yes, it was that bad. Finally, I had to choose a shirt. I changed my mind numerous times until I concluded that I needed to wear a loose flowing top to camouflage my CLEAR muffin top. All I could think about, well aside from the self-loathing, was how I KNEW I shouldn’t leave the house looking like that. I KNEW it looked bad. Unfortunately, I also knew I didn’t have any other casual options. In the end, I wore the pants anyway… muffin top and all.
I can’t tolerate it much longer. Plus, I’m pretty sure that I can’t finagle my way into these pants much longer. If I don’t want to go out and buy bigger pants, I need to do something. Well, I’m cheap and disgusted, so I’m making a change. Have you hit that point yet? If so, I welcome you to join me in fighting back and saying “NO” to buying bigger pants—“NO” to muffin tops! … even muffin tops of the tasty variety. Seriously, those things are deceivingly high in points, even the reduced fat ones.