The weigh in this week was snowed off so I can kid myself that any weight I gain between now and the New Year will be due entirely to overindulgence at Christmas.
The hampers are almost finished. The kitchen is covered in a thin film of stickiness as drips from various liqueurs splashed as they were being filtered. All that I need to do now is make an industrial quantity of pistachio brittle but this year I worked out that ready shelled nuts are cheaper and easier.
A couple of weeks age Debbie discovered a pair of jeans that had been discarded on the way up lurking at the back of the wardrobe. They were two sizes smaller than the ones I had been wearing which were becoming a little baggy. Actually I was starting to worry that they would be mistaken for a clown trousers although maybe belonging to a sombre clown who was only wearing black until something darker was discovered. Even with a belt I was struggling to hold them up.
I have been loathe to go out and buy new clothes as the way I see it I will either put the weight back on again or carry on losing until I hit target. In an ideal world I would be able to shrink my clothes with my body but I have recently admitted that I am going to have to buy some smaller clothes.
I have never been a great one for fashion. In the nineties I did briefly have a mullet but it was deeply unfashionable even then. In fact I have always been a dead end for fashion. When I moved in with my first wife I found her in tears as she unpacked one of my bags. She had discovered a t-shirt which I had cut the arms off in (in her words) “a desperate attempt to be trendy and fit in”. I think she was crying because she felt sorry for me although it could have been that she realised what she had let herself in for.
I could list further fashion faux pas but it would be too traumatic both for me and my reader.
Until recently my wardrobe consisted of fourteen pairs of black socks, fourteen black t-shirts, fourteen pairs of black underpants and several pairs of bright yellow jeans. Nope, I lie, the jeans are black too. Over the summer Debbie bought me some dark coloured short sleeved shirts but in general my clothes tend toward the noir. And of course as I lose weight it looks more and more as if I accidentally put on a black tent as I got dressed in the dark.
One of the problems with being a fat male is there are no highstreet shops selling outsize men’s clothes. Once your waist gets above forty eight inches you are relegated to shopping on the internet. The fact that there are lots of “big man” clothing retailers on the internet shows that there is a market but I have no idea where the customers went before the start of the online era. I can’t remember the last time I went into a clothes shop to buy for myself and now I am just about able to I am strangely looking forward to it.
I have been giving lots of thought to how I will dress when I can wear what I want. I have no fixed ideas but I can be sure of one thing: it won’t be black.