Old Clothes.
March 4th, 2008 by trancejen
What have I been up to? Carb counting. Weighing. Measuring my hips. This is what I do, obsessively, all day long.
In the interim I have been filling out mountains of paperwork for disability, taking the kitten to the vet to be spayed and declawed (and please refrain from bashing me in the comments, I was already informed that this was an evil practice and that I was SATAN and that the PETA people were going to come and Get Me the last time I stupidly mentioned declawing), grounding the J-Man for lying like a big lying liar, going out to dinner with Bullshit’s mother, and trying to figure out new recipes that don’t contain carbs.
Always it comes back to carbs.
Carbs. I have a one-track mind, and it is on a very boring track.
Today I cleaned out the closet and actually boxed up all of the clothing that doesn’t fit me to store in the garage for possible future use. I now have size four to size fourteen jeans neatly folded and waiting for me in copy paper boxes, and they are whispering.
“She’s not going to do it, you know.”
“Says you. She’ll fit into me.”
“You’re a fourteen. I haven’t seen her in eons. I don’t even remember what her ass looks like.”
“It looks pretty different now She went from bony to badonka-donk!”
“You’re fucking corduroy. You’re probably never going to see the light of day anyway.”
“Fuck off.”
My jeans are rude, but I can’t help wondering if they’re right. Will they languish in the damp, fusty garage forever? It seems that way.
The tops I tossed into boxes seemed impossibly tiny, like stuff my son would have worn two years ago. Did I ever actually wear that stuff?
Were my tits actually that small??
God.
I suppose at this point I’ve been fat for so long I forgot what it was like to wear thin clothes. Even though a lot of my played-out shirts and pants should probably have been earmarked for our annual summer garage sale, I just couldn’t let the stuff go, even the pink shirt artfully held together with safety pins or the ratty black t-shirts, of which I own ninety.
I want my skinny clothes because I want to need them. Even though I would probably need major reconstructive surgery to ever fit into a four again, giving those fours away would admit defeat.
I will never admit defeat.
So, I count carbs. I measure. I weigh and I weigh and I weigh. And damn it, I will fit into at least some of those rude pants come summer, mark my words.
That’ll shut ‘em up.
Happy Tuesday. I’m aware I’m being extremely boring.
For-tart wrote on 03/4/08 at 2:14 pm :
Tell us, please, what do your towels say as they hang from the rack and stare down upon you as you lather, rinse and repeat. Mine just say “Chump!”
Poppy wrote on 03/4/08 at 3:18 pm :
Tell me - do you miss bread and pasta? I’ve thought about doing an atkins-y thing but I’m afraid that: 1. I’d turn in to a giant walking boneless-skinless chicken breast topped with an egg or 2.) My love of bread and pasta would totally derail any plans of sticking on the plan. Also - can you do the plan for awhile and go back to the evil carb-filled ways without putting back on any weight you lost or is it a permanent one-way street?
cristy wrote on 03/4/08 at 7:17 pm :
So how’d ya get rid of the migraine?
carl wrote on 03/4/08 at 10:45 pm :
cordoroys probably rude because they are stuck in that 60’s time warp and have a very hard time proving that they are still hip in the 21st century LOL
Enjoy your declawed kitty…sounds like the perfect pet to have!
I don’t agree with your diet, but what the fuck …what ever works for you. As long as you stay healthy as you can while on this diet.
OrneryPest wrote on 03/5/08 at 6:10 am :
Hey, de-clawing cats is good fer ‘em! They love it! If you examine a cat’s paw, you’ll see they walk on the next toe joint back from the tip, not the tip, so de-clawing won’t disable a cat like it would do to most other carnivores. (De-clawing would totally cripple a dog or a skunk or a raccoon, for instance.) So, De-Claw in Good Spirits!
LA wrote on 03/5/08 at 7:05 am :
My skinny clothes mutter and snark at me too! The phone bill was outrageous last month and I couldn’t figure out why. Now I know, my skinny jeans were calling yours to laugh and be bitchy about us both! Damn. ~LA
misha wrote on 03/5/08 at 2:23 pm :
glad u are back :] and most of all feeling better.
pennyjar wrote on 03/7/08 at 2:15 pm :
My unsolicited but heartfelt assvice: throw out the 4’s. 4’s will fuck with your head. 4’s are the devil. 4’s are for 17 yr old twits. 7’s are much friendlier. Cheery even. 7’s are like coming home. To a nice warm fire, a golden retriever, Mr. Bubble, and fluffy slippers. 7’s are the new black.