…that I am a lily livered coward, and will dare not confront the weighing scale and the demon that lies snarling within it. Therefore I will walk and walk, and eat less and console myself that one has moved up a scale from having to jump and wriggle and do the snake dance to get into one’s jeans, and has only to put self against wall and suck in stomach hard, and wear only jeans with lots and lots of lycra.
Lycra is forgiving. Like an old friend who has seen you through PMSes and pimples, and bad hair days, and unwaxed underarms in public days. Lycra is comfortable. I vote lycra be made compulsory for every denim that exits a factory.
Did a clean out of the cupboard yesterday to make some space for the maternity wear aka hep stuff I picked up and chucked out all the little little tees one had bought in the glory days of youth and no sag and no multiple stomachs. Had hung onto them in the mislaid hope that someday one would be back to a concave stomach, and the toes would be visible from standing vantage once again…Suffice to say that one had more faith in oneself in the past than the present. Wonder what this says about optimistic self perception, and then refuse to analyse such chucking out of clothes that should one even try to push self into them would rend at the seam and be reduced to kitchen rags and probably be of more service to humanity.
Having done that, there is plenty of place in said cupboard for more shopping. Which is always a delightful proposition given that credit card bills have been paid, and cheques have been deposited in the bank, and the debit card is plumped to perfection ready and waiting for depletion.
Quite therapeutic, this cleaning out of cupboards. No, for those who ask kindly, there is no nesting behaviour happening, just generally sick of having to leap away from the doors of the wardrobe as I opened them for fear of stackpiles of unused clothes crashing down on me, and having to crawl inside on both hands and knees to find the one tshirt I was sure was there during the ice age at the very last, when I wore it to combat the mammoths. Yes, this is before self became the mammoth. And the woolly one to boot, given PCOS making a mess of hair cultivation. Such fertility in ground soil, had it been manifest in India’s matti would have brought on the green revolution much before the agriculturists got round to it.
Ah the bliss of a new month, and a new shopping spree.
Happy shopping to you too.