Unexpected downsizing, or why I really need to go shopping
I've never been one of those people who can eat and eat and EAT and never gain weight. (Hello, immediate family, how are those crazy-fast metabolisms of yours?)
I didn't really make an effort to slim down for our wedding. It seemed a shame to miss out on those yummy cocktails/that nice chocolate/those delicious chips... you get the idea. I got a little skinnier, but not much. I figured I'd probably stay that size for awhile if I worked at it. So I bought work clothes in anticipation of our move to Dublin, and prepared myself to make an effort with food.
Fast forward five months. (Can you believe it's been five months already??) I'm a size or two smaller, because none - NONE - of the clothes that used to fit me, fit me anymore.
Okay, my t-shirts are all right. And the more fitted dresses still look ok as less-fitted dresses.
But none of my pants and skirts fit right. My beloved Workshop jeans - too "firm" to wear on my hen's night (I had a lot of fun planned), are loose. LOOSE, people!
And the most annoying thing - aside from an ever-shrinking wardrobe - is that I don't know how I did it. Okay, I don't pig out all the time, but i eat what I want, when I want, pretty much. I don't exercise much, and I don't have a medical problem or drug addiction to burn the extra calories. (I know you that when you think "Laura", you think "drugs". Obviously.)
It's like the fat fairy decided to be kind to me, now that I'm married and can let myself go. Which I'm not complaining about.
What I *am* complaining about is that I'm now down to 2 pairs of pants, a pair of jeans, and a couple skirts that actually kind of fit me, and are appropriate for activities other than mooching around the house. (My new trackpants also fit, and are nice, but are not work-appropriate, no matter how I accessorise them.)
So I need new clothes. Only, I don't want to go shopping. I can't be arsed. But if I don't, I will start to look like a sad, uniform-wearing loser. Or risk flashing everyone when my pants droop too low.
While these are both options, they are not very attractive. And there are enough unattractively-dressed people in the world. I know this because I see them every day: the white pants, overly tight skirts, barely-covered bosoms, thick makeup - and that's just the men!
(Seriously, there are some really good dressers here, and some really appalling ones. We seem to live near the appalling dressers, which makes it ok to shop in your pjs, but is less than inspirational.)
So. Shopping this weekend. Even though I don't want to. And when I'm magically a size or two bigger in 6 months' time, you can laugh at me for not just buying a big belt. But I won't need to go shopping.
I didn't really make an effort to slim down for our wedding. It seemed a shame to miss out on those yummy cocktails/that nice chocolate/those delicious chips... you get the idea. I got a little skinnier, but not much. I figured I'd probably stay that size for awhile if I worked at it. So I bought work clothes in anticipation of our move to Dublin, and prepared myself to make an effort with food.
Fast forward five months. (Can you believe it's been five months already??) I'm a size or two smaller, because none - NONE - of the clothes that used to fit me, fit me anymore.
Okay, my t-shirts are all right. And the more fitted dresses still look ok as less-fitted dresses.
But none of my pants and skirts fit right. My beloved Workshop jeans - too "firm" to wear on my hen's night (I had a lot of fun planned), are loose. LOOSE, people!
And the most annoying thing - aside from an ever-shrinking wardrobe - is that I don't know how I did it. Okay, I don't pig out all the time, but i eat what I want, when I want, pretty much. I don't exercise much, and I don't have a medical problem or drug addiction to burn the extra calories. (I know you that when you think "Laura", you think "drugs". Obviously.)
It's like the fat fairy decided to be kind to me, now that I'm married and can let myself go. Which I'm not complaining about.
What I *am* complaining about is that I'm now down to 2 pairs of pants, a pair of jeans, and a couple skirts that actually kind of fit me, and are appropriate for activities other than mooching around the house. (My new trackpants also fit, and are nice, but are not work-appropriate, no matter how I accessorise them.)
So I need new clothes. Only, I don't want to go shopping. I can't be arsed. But if I don't, I will start to look like a sad, uniform-wearing loser. Or risk flashing everyone when my pants droop too low.
While these are both options, they are not very attractive. And there are enough unattractively-dressed people in the world. I know this because I see them every day: the white pants, overly tight skirts, barely-covered bosoms, thick makeup - and that's just the men!
(Seriously, there are some really good dressers here, and some really appalling ones. We seem to live near the appalling dressers, which makes it ok to shop in your pjs, but is less than inspirational.)
So. Shopping this weekend. Even though I don't want to. And when I'm magically a size or two bigger in 6 months' time, you can laugh at me for not just buying a big belt. But I won't need to go shopping.
Labels: Dublin, European fashions, Grumbles, Laura
did I miss something???? did you say "when I'm magically a size or two bigger in 6 months' time..." does that mean....?
Oh, God no - not *that*!
I just figure in 6 months' time I'll be eating to stay warm in winter, so I'll have an extra layer (or three!) of fat.
I don't know what your readership is like, but there could be hundreds of women out there spitting tacks because they'd love to be in your position ;-)
I know what you mean Violet - usually I'd be one of them! That's partly why it's so odd.
But really, I think we have a readership of about 10, most of whom are not in Ireland, so I'm safe from the tacks :-)