Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Zzipping up

I've mislaid some clothes.  I wanted to wear a pink jacket the other day - I'd been to a funeral so wore a black jacket with my grey and white dress, and thought I'd brighten up a bit for the afternoon.  It's a bright pink, unmissable ... only it isn't.  I can't find it anywhere.  This morning I was going to do some scything so I wanted to wear my old jeans.  No idea where they are.  Last I saw of them they were in the washing machine.  That is, I haven't worn them since I washed them, but they aren't there now.

Anyway, while I was looking this morning I picked up a pair of jeans that I keep for old times' sake.  Shall I tell you the story?  Oh, okay - well, it dates back to when Al was in his early teens and I had recently lost weight.  It was 23 years ago in fact, and I weighed under 8 1/2 stone when I stopped dieting, and I kept that weight or close to it for several years - my forties were difficult years and that was when I piled on too many pounds.

One day I went to the pile of clothes I'd brought in from the washing line the day before, took a pair of jeans and put them on, did them up and realised something was wrong.  Hard to identify, they fitted but they didn't feel right.  I looked in the mirror and they were narrower than I expected.  I took them off - of course, they were Al's jeans.  Marks and Spencer, age 13, height 63 inches, waist 27 inches.  Al was a skinny lad (he still is, turn sideways and he almost vanishes, just a thin line) and I was quite gratified that I could zip up his jeans *just like that*.

Well, when he grew out of them I kept them and they're my yardstick.  Of course in my fatter days I never tried to put them on at all, and a few months ago I could put them on and not do them up.  The last time I tried, I could do up the waist button but not the zip.

You know what's coming, don't you?  Yes, I drew in the vast tum, pulled on the zip and up it went.  I examined myself critically.  Still something to come off the thighs and if I didn't hold the flab in by sheer willpower it had a tendency to spill over a bit (not outrageously, mind you).  But I bent over and could touch my toes in them and, more importantly, I couldn't do them up a few weeks ago.

Later, I measured my hips.  37 inches.  

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