Category Archives: clothing

Pants Retirement Ceremony

Today, we bid adieu to the sisters Pants: gray striped, black, and navy.

The pants sisters, retiring to a nice home elsewhere.

The pants sisters, retiring to a nice home elsewhere.

I bought them last year as part of my professional post-weight-loss wardrobe. They served me well for months, enduring a little weight fluctuation, lots of trips to and from the printer, and being cursed at for having no belt loops. Alas, I don’t have the sewing skill to add belt loops that would look like they naturally belong to these pants, even though I now have a sewing machine. And so, the circle of life begins anew, and these pants go on to a new home.

I decided to retire them tonight as I put away laundry because I have purchased 3 new pairs of pants at a thrift store over the last month: gray plaid with a light pink stripe, gray striped, and very dark gray. (Gray may be my favorite color when it comes to clothing. It’s just so damn classy.)

I may have also decided to get rid of them so I could free up space in my closet for new clothes and wouldn’t have to put away those 3 pairs of pants. Yes, I would rather give away clothing than follow through with the laundry. We’ve all been there.

The pants I’m retiring are U.S. size 12s. The new pants I purchased are two in size 10 and one in size 8. Every brand fits a little differently, and I spent a lot of time in the clothing racks plucking out every viable-seeming candidate from a range of sizes before heading to the dressing room and depositing the losers on the return rack.

Unflattering fit aside, what is up with the embroidery?

Unflattering fit aside, what is up with the embroidery?

The retiring pants were all of the same fit and brand, all 3 bought all at the same time, and I am moving them along as a unit. Are they some kind of sisterhood of trousers that journey together? I wouldn’t go that far. But they were, to me, a symbol of the smaller person I was becoming, the first full-price clothing purchase I made of nice clothes for my changing body. I started wearing them less and less as I got better-fitting replacements, and I knew their time was short when I started finding high-quality, gently used trousers at the thrift store that didn’t have to be held up with safety pins.

My new pants, newly washed and hung to dry, will start their new life upholstering my rear end starting tomorrow. Hopefully, it will be a while before I have to hold them up with pins. They do have a major advantage over my old pants: they all have belt loops.

It Is Still Fresh Air, Even If It Smells Like Manure

The out-of-doors in the summer. It’s gorgeous! It’s covered in bees! It’s covered in kudzu, wildflowers, horses, crops, and cows, too, as far as I can tell.

Ahh, the countryside.

Ahh, the countryside.

The temperature has been more than reasonable most of this week – 75-80F (24-27C), partly cloudy, breezy. The place where I live has gentle, rolling hills and shade trees and farmland all mixed together. It’s ideal.

I haven’t been walking much the last 7 months, ever since I moved into my own house with a yard that didn’t leave dog-walking as a necessity anymore. Moreover, I took my dogs out a few months ago, and we were attacked by a dog that came off its chain down the street. So there’s been precious few dog-accompanied adventures, and until recently, precious few adventures undertaken solo.

I have enjoyed walking down to the flat bridge over a nearby creek. I’ve only been on that walk a few times, though. Part of that is the mental battle I have with that steep-ass hill that leads down to the creek. The 1.3 miles down to the creek is almost completely downhill. The trip back up is not really a lot of fun. The creek is usually lovely and enjoyable to watch for a few minutes. I have rediscovered my love of skipping stones on the water, and I usually come away with a memento, such as a little geode I plan to clean up and put on my desk at work.

Flat bridge ahoy! So beautiful and calm! And at the bottom of a mile-long steep grade! Bleh!

Flat bridge ahoy! So beautiful and calm! And at the bottom of a mile-long steep grade! Bleh!

The main problem with walking down the main road to work out: traffic. I’m not very keen on sharp hill crests and turns where I could be a surprise object in the roadway. I try to cross the road, or walk in the tall grass in ditches on the side of the road, if I hear a vehicle coming. But there are a lot of ticks in this part of the country, and they sometimes hang out in the tall grass, waiting. Planning. Scheming. Hungry. The ticks and I are at war. There are no survivors once they are found in my house, on my pets, and especially on my person. The first line of defense is a good offense, and that means walking on the road when I can.

Being an explorer and a self-preservationist, I decided to walk in the opposite direction of the bridge the other day, opting for a nearby single-lane, paved, quiet road that winds through the main Mennonite settlement in my county. It was a good choice. I mean, the county where I live is just chock full of natural beauty anyway; it’s really nice to be able to walk slowly through it and appreciate it up close without fear of being run over by an F-250 every two minutes. While on this slender thread of pavement through lush farmland and riotous green woods, I gave directions to some lost folks in a pick-up and waved politely at anyone who passed me, whether they were in work trucks or open-air horse-drawn buggies. I felt that I looked out of place, walking along a road mostly traveled by farm workers while in my bright teal workout shirt (get your rear in gear!), headphones, hiking boots, sunglasses, and knee brace. But I was also very at-home in my surroundings. I spent some of my childhood summers on a sprawling farm just outside of town: riding bikes down dirt roads, looking at the cows, trying to rescue birds from oil ponds bubbling up next to little-used derricks, and picking blackberries. I’ve always loved the outdoors, and living in a place where I can more easily appreciate it year-round is a gift I will always cherish.

Wide open spaces and a seldom-used fork in the road.

Wide open spaces and a seldom-used fork in the road.

Meeting house, complete with water pump and hitching posts.

Meeting house, complete with water pump and hitching posts.

I photographed all kinds of wildlife while I was out earlier this week. I was delighted to find a small waterfall lurking behind foliage, trickling slowly into a creek that wound under a bridge and into a pasture where several beautiful honey-colored horses grazed in the midday sun. I marked that bridge as my halfway point to make an approximate 5k (~3.1 miles) from my starting point. When I reached that point again today, the horses were gone, and there was something very dead by the creek. It smelled terrible, and it persisted for a tenth of a mile. Then, on my way back to my starting point, the wind had shifted to where I was upwind, and I managed to be in the path of the breeze after it had passed over every single pile of horse manure on the road. I took it in stride in the name of better health.

I had a great couple of walks, though I know my calves are going to be sore for a few days. Months of activity followed up by three 5k walks in a single week? Not without consequences. At least I had the foresight to wear my ankle brace and my knee brace both. And sunscreen, most of the time.

Future home of freckles.

Future home of freckles.

Now, it is time to talk tragedy. My amazing hiking boots that I got last fall, which have seen me through many miles with my dogs and on my own, suffered an eyelet loss earlier today. Quel dommage!

ALORS. Now my laced-up boot looks ridiculous.

ALORS. Now my laced-up boot looks ridiculous.

I’ll figure out a fix – it may involve heavy-duty glue, or an awl, or something. The boots are otherwise fine, and I might even be able to get away with still wearing them in their current, stupidly-laced state for a while yet to come.

Another lesser tragedy: my old sports bras are now in dire need of replacement. They are not structured at all; I bought one at Target, another on sale at a sporting goods store, and I bought them both to wear to physical therapy when I was 40 pounds heavier than I weigh now. It’s going to be a while before I can afford a really good underwired upgrade, so I may either tailor one of them or buy something inexpensive to get me through the fall at a big box retailer.

My less-than-sturdy body parts are doing well; little ankle soreness, no knee complaints to speak of, and even my surgery scars are all right. I am still ever-mindful of too much exercise straining my abdominal surgery scars. No pain so far after my third walk in a week, but it could take a day or two for that to still happen.

Weight Loss Problems

What a problem to have. I’m still trending downward with weight, and there is less fat to pad my muscles and joints. I spent quite a while lying down on the living room floor last night, hanging out with my sick dog in her kennel with a pillow propped up under my torso. This morning, my legs and rear end are achy and sore where I rested them on the floor for so long.

The new work pants I bought last fall are too loose and look as though they are falling off. I finally safety-pinned the waistband of one pair this morning, tired of showing the world my underwear.

I am beginning to run into variable sizes the next size down. Some pants fit, some don’t. Don’t vanity size it, and label it correctly, please.

I could not finish a restaurant omelet last weekend. Used to be I could eat the whole thing and the side dish, and still want more. I took the remainder home and ate it for dinner.

Even though I am smaller, my life is still not perfect. No one told me that losing weight would solve all my problems, but I inferred that anyway. Turns out I’m still the same person with mostly the same life issues, just with less snoring and more carrots.

My main goal in life is to get to a weight where I will allow myself to start eating pasta regularly again. I miss it! But I know it’s best eaten in moderation instead of for every meal.

A Stranger’s Body

When I moved across the country, I started a new life with family and friends who hadn’t seen much of me for nearly 10 years. They aren’t as familiar with my body reshaping journey, and they don’t have the same image in their heads of me that I do.

I was having lunch with my new coworkers, and we were talking about dieting, different food lifestyles, our struggles with our bodies that ranged from weight loss to maintaining mobility. I talked some about how my eating habits changed over the last year and why I’m trying to steer clear of carbohydrates and starch. I get comments now to the effect of, “You don’t need to lose weight.” I then tell them about the eating plan my doctor put me on last year, my highest weight two years ago, and how much I’ve lost over the last year. “You weighed 205 pounds? You?” I don’t feel that different essentially, but I know I look different, and the two versions of myself are still being reconciled in my head.

When I look in the mirror, I see myself as I’ve always seen me, even though the shape is different. I’m still surprised at how my abdomen doesn’t protrude as much and how much better defined my chin is. But there I am, with more wrinkles and gray hair every day, smaller measurements all over.

The real shock comes when I look at photos of myself from the recent past. Scrolling through my Facebook photos is eye-opening. While I don’t regret what I looked like or hate myself for it – I know how hard I was trying to change myself for all those years – I am glad that I no longer have the health problems that came with that extra weight, the frustration that came with living that way, and the feeling that I’d never be able to lose it no matter how hard I tried.

People who know me now don’t realize that the larger version of me is still who I identify with, that that’s who I was for two decades. That’s my story, though, and it’s not as visible as my current body and the story that people might assign to me because of the way I look now. For better or worse, our pasts rule us. ┬áThat’s one reason I will always be decent to other people no matter their size – you don’t know their story, and it’s a highly personal story that is never really over.

I’m still getting used to seeing this body in the mirror, fitting it with clothes, and understanding the way other people see it. I love myself in every iteration, but this new me is both exciting and strange… and expensive to reclothe. My boyfriend is a valuable touchstone for shifting my perception and highlighting the changes my body has been through.

I have to cull my clothing collection again to rid myself of shirts that just won’t work anymore. I’m starting to fit into size 10 pants; my size 12s are getting baggy, and I’m wearing my boyfriend’s belts for the first time. This would have been impossible in the past due to the measurement of my waist. It’s a whole weird new world to me that just seems normal to everyone else. Time for me to start getting used to it.

Inclement Clothing

Northern hemisphere snow party! Whoo!

It’s around the darkest days of the year with the least sunshine, and it’s not so bad, to be honest. Yeah, it’s in the 20s F in the morning with highs rising all the way to the 30s F by the middle of the day, but as long as it doesn’t rain and get all damp and gross outside, that’s not so bad!

Unfortunately, it’s been damp and gross – the wet kind of cold weather that isn’t pretty and doesn’t have the decency to not soak through every layer you have on – for a lot of the last couple of weeks. Snow flurries fell over the weekend, though, and didn’t stick to much, melting and refreezing almost as soon as they hit most earthbound surfaces. This morning, it was cold, clear, and dazzlingly sunny.

As I’ve said several times before, I’ve put together a cold weather wardrobe. It proved to be inadequate the other night when it was just above freezing and started to rain very hard as the dogs stood in the back yard, alternating between finding things to eat in the bushes and pulling away from me toward the house without having used the potty, which was the entire reason we were out there. I have a rain coat, but I wasn’t wearing anything warmer under it than a sweater. I don’t have waterproof boots or pants that resist rain. My flannel pajama pants I’d worn out into the rain got pretty damp, and I let my shoes dry out for a day before I took the dogs out for a long walk again. So basically, those things are next on my list of winter-wear gear. I’ve got being warm enough down, now I just have to stay dry as well.

Rain hasn’t been much of a problem for me for years. Texas doesn’t get a lot of rain, and the last two summers have been phenomenally dry and included a record-breaking drought. Now that I’m in Kentucky at the foothills of Appalachia, it’s a different story. We’re not quite far north enough to get snow, and we’re not quite far south enough to have a warm winter. We get a wet, damp January, leaf-stripped forests for three months, occasional snow. It seemed worse when I was young and didn’t always have adequate protection from the elements. But now, I’ve grown up, accessorized with fleece and a dozen different garments, and I’m good to go when it’s snowing in my face.

This is what I wore last night on a circuit around the neighborhood across the hard gravel road, around frozen puddles, into the murky night lit via light pollution caught by low-hanging clouds. I was so toasty.

A woman's leg clothed in hiking boots, argyle knee-high socks, black tights, and purple pants

Pants layers – long socks, tights, yoga pants, and boots.

A woman in a leather jacket, fleece hat, and two sets of gloves giving the thumbs-up

Gloves and face layers.

A woman in winter clothing wearing four shirts.

Shirt layers – tank, thermal sweater, fleece pullover, and leather jacket.

Next on my shopping list are rainproof pants and boots. I could probably apply some water resistance to the boots I have now, but it might be easier to upgrade to another pair at some point.

The ability to be comfortable as I go out into the world is the only thing that makes it tolerable going out. I went into the cold woefully underdressed a few nights ago and didn’t really get almost comfortable until about 20 minutes in, when I’d warmed up from the exertion. By that time, my hands were frozen, and we were almost back at the house. Lesson learned.

Compelling Cold

What is it about the cold that makes me want to be outside?

I took two accidental hour-long walks with my dogs today. We’ve been strolling through the nearby ballpark (where I spent 7 happy summers on various softball teams as a kid), expanding on our neighborhood exploration, and apparently that’s enough to boost our outdoors time past the 60-minute mark. I took the dogs out on an intentionally long stroll this morning to reward them for being so good during the rain of the last several days.

This evening, I called my sister, wrangling the dogs with one hand, and we probably moved a lot more slowly than usual. I also wore my knee brace, because the walk this morning, plus stumbling in the mud in my work shoes during lunch, made it feel necessary. When I hung up the phone and checked the time, we’d been out for over an hour and 10 minutes.

The temperature this morning was about 32F/0C; this evening, it was 25F/-4C. I guess I’m not a Texas girl anymore if I can put up with that with a smile on my face.

I was super cozy this evening in a new sweater I picked up for $15 at Kohl’s: a Tek Gear 1/4-zip microfleece jacket. Lows in the 20s are about as cold as it regularly gets in this part of the country, so modern fleece is just fine for this climate. I practically live in my performance fleece zip-up jacket from Old Navy, bought for $12 about a month ago. My hiking boots are still amazing performers. My long socks are warm and comfortable. A fleece hat that a friend gave me 13 or 14 years ago still looks good, feels soft, has kept its shape, and is warm and familiar. It’s great to feel so well-bundled, so well-prepared.

A woman in a pink plaid fleece jacket

Me in my new fleece jacket, late November. I wore this zip-up damn near everywhere the first few weeks I bought it.

The only part of me that got remotely cold this evening was the hand in which I was holding my phone, and then only because I took my glove off in order to dial. I don’t think my life has gotten to the point where I need fancy gloves that allow me to use touch-sensitive devices, but I’m sure everyone will offer those in 5 years.

The dogs have weathered the cold very well for being suburban beagles their entire lives, too. When it was chilly and wet out the other day, they actually went chest-deep into standing water in drainage ditches; they got a nice bath when we got home. Today, they dragged me through some red Georgia clay, a subsoil with a lot of iron in it, and came home with their little white feet turned orange. They didn’t seem to mind getting a quick feet and belly rinse-off with warm water. Like me, I suppose, they don’t mind getting cold and gross in the out of doors, as long as there’s warmth and comfort waiting on the other side. I don’t think they’re the kind of dogs that require clothing or protection from this level of cold; they rather enjoy it, from all appearances. And their enjoyment helps feed into my own enjoyment. My girl dog gets mesmerized by wildlife and shatters the peace of whatever time of day we’re out with short yelps or excited whimpering. But seeing her so excited, smelling everything, rapt with attention, studying a tree, solving problems, is such a joy. The only time I’ve ever resented being outside with the dogs is going out at 5:30am with inadequate clothing, sometimes without shoes, and waiting for one or both of them to go potty… without result. But what can you do? They’re my companions and my compulsion to exercise. I’ve built my wardrobe around the activity of taking them outside to enrich their existence. As long as there’s a need for them to go out, I’ll keep outfitting myself to withstand whatever weather I must to be a good steward for my dependent, loyal dogs.

Several dogs on a paved street in late autumn.

Dog walking. Sometimes, it’s cold, it’s hot, it’s damp, it’s raining. Most of the time, it’s fine. Every time, it’s worth it.

First world problems

Me. Right, the year 2006. Left, early 2000s. Body fat: eternal?

Me. Right, the year 2006. Left, early 2000s. Body fat: eternal?

My abdomen has been large for most of my adult life. I am having technical difficulties today, so you get to see onscreen images captured with my phone of what my body looked like 10 years ago, and again 6 years ago. Even after I’d started the cycle of working out and trying to constraint caloric intake, I still had an abdomen of which I was ashamed. And since these were photos I kept, just imagine the unflattering photos I deleted instead of saving forever on my hard drive.

40 pounds down from my weight of around 203 in March 2011, I still have a protruding abdomen, but it looks better, and I am a lot healthier in every way because of my fat loss.

My clothing size has changed, which I’ve mentioned often in this blog. I have yet to replace everything that I’ve become too small to wear – including dresses. Take into consideration that most of my dress collection that I still have was bought to keep me comfortable after gallbladder surgery during the Texas summer, and pretend to feel bad for me when I complain that I have nothing to wear to a holiday party tonight.

I tried on this charcoal gray wrap dress that is slightly warmer than my sundresses and sleeveless party attire. My boyfriend and I agreed that even though I looked better in it now, it still skewed very “maternity” because of the ability of the Empire waist to enhance the stomach. Photo below is from 2010 or 2011.

Empire waist, you are so maternity on this tummy.

Empire waist, you are so maternity on this tummy.

Ugh, fine. What do I do? Go buy a new dress, right? What an awful problem to have, I know. I’m just glad that I have disposable income again that I can spend on clothes. Extreme budget clothes-buying is entirely doable, but it mostly puts you in single-color tees from big box retailers. That’s how I spent my summer, anyway.

Recent photo, modeling a t-shirt sent to me by a friend.

Recent photo, modeling a t-shirt sent to me by a friend.

Everyone should have such terrible problems. Clothes shopping is still kind of lame, especially as a woman with a large abdomen, but I can take heart that Empire waists are less in fashion, my continued fat loss will lead to more clothing choices (sometimes you buy the dress that’s there instead of the dress you want, especially at plus sizes), and I can afford to put money into the economy on an item I don’t truly need.