I really think tight blue jeans are the modern woman’s version of the corset. Think about it – they hold in all the jiggly stuff, you often need some assistance getting them zipped and when you take them off, everything comes flying out again!
The only real problem with blue jeans, besides being able to sit down, breath, eat or feel your toes after the first hour, is that you really need something on the top to hold in the resulting muffin top. When I’m moving down a size, and the jeans JUST fit – you know what I mean? When you have to lie down or jump up and down to get them to fasten, but by God, they fastened, so you can now claim that you are a size whatever? Well, when they are that tight, the muffin top is more like the whole loaf, as my nephew, Bradley, once hilariously pointed out.
I don’t like to leave the house when they are that tight. Well, UNLESS I have a very flattering shirt that hides the worst bits, am only going somewhere for a short time and expect to be mostly standing while I’m there and know that as soon as I leave I can safely unbutton them in the car. I distinctly remember each time I’ve gone down a size in blue jeans. Starting with the size 28s that did not fit when I had my surgery last year. Then I had a pair of 24 and 22 and 20’s in a box in the garage. Wore those a few times (that was in the hallelujah days when I was dropping a size every 3-4 weeks). I bought a pair of jeans as my goal outfit (Calvin Klein 34’s – too big now!) and almost immediately started looking for jeans at the Goodwill. I have now bought, worn or donated about 15 pairs of jeans. Blue ones, black ones and white ones. Found one pair that was tan and another really pretty yellow pair. I’ve been wearing the 14’s since my birthday in March. (Yes, I could sit, but no, I couldn’t breath or eat and I had on a beautiful blue linen shirt to hide the underlying sins and a Teez Her that sucked in the worst of the muffin top, I mean loaf.)
Yesterday I wore some Bandolino size 12’s that made me look tall and like I had a real butt. Not sure what the technology is, but that’s some powerful magic, because I don’t actually have a butt anymore.
Now I just need to invent a running girdle so my belly doesn’t flap when I run. The first time I tried to run was downhill and I kept turning my head because I could hear someone pounding along behind me. Turns out that was my own belly. Yep. Step. Flap. Step. Flap. After that I tried tighter and tighter exercise pants or bike shorts to reduce the flap volume. A couple of times I’ve resorted to wearing a regular girdle. Which is more comfortable than it might sound to someone who doesn’t have 15 pounds of belly flapping along with them as they try to huff and puff their way through a Couch to 5k program. Now that I’ve lost more weight, the butt is starting to make its own silent but painful contribution to the concert so I really need that running girdle.
Nike, are you listening? I see a whole line of Fat-Lete Accessories: the Fat-Lete Running Girdle – holds it until you can burn it off. The Fat-Lete Leggings – we’ve got you covered from waist to ankle. The Fat-Lete Corset – no black eyes for you (or innocent by passers). What I really need for cold weather though is a Fat-Lete All in One Miracle Suit: zip into this and watch as the miracle fabric instantly tightens to support boobs, butt and belly and create a sight that won’t frighten the neighbor children and dogs as you go running by.
There could be a whole industry created: Fat-Lete Yoga clothes – relax and let us worry about the bulge. Fat-Lete swim suits – show off your good parts and hide the rest. Fat-Lete bike shorts – never worry about what’s hanging down again. Fat-Lete scuba suit – now with built-in weight belts for neutral buoyancy that only you know about.
Well, breakfast is calling my name. Gotta get this day started!