This time of year is the hardest for me.
I’m generally pretty mindful of my food intake. But like most living human beings, I pay a LOT less attention to quality and quantity of chow from late November until right around my birthday in mid-January. That’s two months of devil-may-care munching, and there is always some weight gain.
And that’s natural and fine and I am generally OK with it. But this year was even harder because I had the Martian Death Flu for nearly two weeks and didn’t hit the gym at all during that time. So I’ve gained more this year than usual.
And do you know how I know?
Because this time of year is also generally the COLDEST here in MN, and that means there are days that I can’t just throw on a pair of tights and a kicky full skirt – an outfit that would work for me even if I were to gain 20 pounds because it jives with my natural body shape. I mean, I could wear a pair of tights and a kicky full skirt if I didn’t mind losing my legs to frostbite. But I enjoy walking.
So I have to reacquaint myself with you, Pants. In a more formal, ongoing way. Sure, I stop by and say “hi” on the weekends sometimes, when a pair of skinnies and a formless sweater can conspire to create a cozy-casual ensemble. But at this time of year, it’s a different story. When I visit now, I have to put on my longjohns and cami, and THEN shoehorn myself into a pair of you, and THEN layer a thousand work-appropriate layers on top of that.
And I am reminded that I am just not terribly compatible with you, Pants. You might fit fine when I’ve been biking to work a couple of times per week, and when I’m NOT wearing what is essentially another slightly thinner pair of pants beneath you. But under these circumstances? With the winter weight and the longjohns? You subdivide my wubba. You pull in the crotch. You add bulk to my waistline. YOU DO NOT LOVE ME. And you make me even more miserable than I’d be on my own, attempting to stay cheerful when it’s -30 and dark all the time.
I wear you so seldom that the prospect of buying more of you just to fit me for a couple of mind-numbing months out of the year makes me downright ornery. So, Pants, I’ll be implementing some workarounds this year. I’ll be wearing my floor-length skirts as often as I can, and even layering them with each other for added warmth. I’ll be doubling up on tights to see if that will make skirt wearage a possibility in subzero temps. And I’ll be finding ways to make my leather versions of you work-appropriate so I can go without longjohns once in a while.
I appreciate the effort, Pants. I know you try hard. But it just isn’t working out. I’m sure you’ll find a nice shape of girl who will love you – one with smaller hips or a flatter tummy, who will adore your laid-back cool. I’ll stop by and see you when I can, and I hope we can stay friends. I wish you all the best.