I can’t speak for men. (Sometimes I can’t even speak to them.)
But many of the women I know have more than one size of pants, particularly jeans, in their wardrobe. You can wear this pair when you’re feeling skinny and that pair when you’re feeling bloated. Some are comfy enough to wear all day long. Others have a limited wear-time, and you’d only wear them to a party, where you’re going to be standing up the entire evening and you have an idea that this one pair makes your ass look fabulous. Even if you can’t draw a deep breath.
So this morning I slid into my workaday jeans. Comfy enough to wear to a meeting at school, lunch out, some errands, and possibly some chores before lapsing into evening sweatpant time.
Halfway through the day, the pants were getting uncomfortable. Cutting me in two. Crushing my liver into my spleen.
Was I bloating? (No.) Had I eaten too much? (No.)
Was I just getting fat?
That’s a depressing thought. In the span of two days, my comfy jeans turned into uncomfortably tight jeans of agony.
Muffin top? Please. I was an overflowing bundt pan.
As soon as I could get home, I changed into sweats. And went about my day, because who has time to lie about and sulk about their weight? Well, I’m sure someone does. Maybe a Kardashian. But not me. I’ve got proofreading to do. Questions to answer. Fires to pee on. A suitcase to pack.
Packing a suitcase, at my house, usually involves the laundry process. What’s the point of flying across the country with dirty underwear and your third-favorite shirt?
I’m sorting. I’m folding. I’m putting away.
I pick up the jeans formerly known as comfortable. I get a good long look at them. They don’t have the sparklies on the butt. My comfy jeans (second best pair) have sparklies on the butt.
These imposters? These are not my comfy jeans! These are impulsively purchased thrift-store pretenders with a stiff zipper mechanism and an awkward rise.
This means I did not break the land-speed record for gaining weight in two days.
To be sure, I don’t think I lost any weight in the last two days. But I didn’t gain so much that I have to go out back to the barbecue grill, whip out the lighter fluid and sacrifice another pair of jeans to the gods of denim and fat grams.
Still…everything was on right side out and my socks matched. I’m counting today as a win.