Thursday, March 15, 2012

Unintended Consequences

I have to admit, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. Why? I've gone twelve straight weeks of going to gym at least 3 times per week. What has since occurred is a rapid bout of waistline reduction and beer belly destruction, the likes of which I'd never seen. I haven't been able to wear size 36 waist pants since freshman year in college, but now, no problem.

But I'll tell you what is a problem:

I haven't been able to wear size 36 waist pants since freshman year in college. 

Simply put, I don't own any. Well I own one but you won't catch me leaving the house in it anytime soon. Same way you keep emergency drawers, I have emergency pants. Don't look at me like that, girls you know you have an emergency panty or two. A set you keep handy just so you know it's time to do laundry. Trust me, when you're down to that last pair of Charlotte Street-bought Joe Boxers with the holes in it, you know to get your ass up and wash some clothes.

Where were we?

As of late I've taken to poking holes in my belts to get pants to fit. Many of my cherished Ecko t-shirts and button-ups I probably can't wear anymore. Which brings me to my next point, I'll be thirty years old later this year and though I don't think it's a problem yet, I've started to think about what a thirty-year old should wear. How much different would that be from what a twenty or twenty-five year old wears. I've been off the social scene for quite some time but now that I'm back, I've begun to notice that my typical jeans and t-shirt numbers don't seem to cut it anymore.

Furthermore, baggy jeans apparently don't cut it anymore either but trust me, you're not going to see Mr. Thunder Thighs over here in any skinny jeans any time soon, you could forget that fantasy. Budgetary constraints prevent me from doing a major wardrobe refresh right now, so my over-sized clothing will have to do. But eventually when the time comes, I think I'll need some help. I'm wading through a morass of tight jeans, fitted tops and pedal pushers (capris to some of you), Kangol caps and Clarks and I'm honestly not feeling it.

Hell no.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm not trying to conform or be trendy. As the grey hairs start growing in one by one, and lines in my face begin to appear, I have a genuine concern that my jeans and jersey days are over. The big, fat Rhino (Ecko) print everyone is so used to seeing may have to...............wait a minute, how old is Chris? He still wears Ecko everything with jeans and he's like 40.

Okay, sorry folks, rant over. What time is it.......hungry already.


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