Reality Check of Zipping the Plaid Shorts

So I'm talking on the phone to my friend Maria today, and we are sharing experiences of currently being on a Low Carb Diet (LCD) lifestyle, as we have both done HCG in the past more than one round to lose weight (HCG is a particular weight-loss plan. That's all you need to know to stay with me here). It was effective for both of us, but neither of us sustained the loss later. Zero fault due to HCG, we just grazed our way back up the scale. 

We are both now simultaneously in search of a LIFESTYLE to stay slender that goes beyond merely "accept it" to actually ENJOY said potentially-mythical lifestyle, the one that will keep us from big fluctuations in weight. But there ARE people doing it, and they still enjoy their relationship with food (albeit in a different way than most U.S. mainstream eaters might define "enjoy"). So we have reason to believe we can get there too.

Our shared challenge: We both LOVE FOOD. She's Italian - actually lived there into her teens. That's her excuse for loving food. If you've ever been to Italy, or even read, "Eat, Love, Pray," they really ARE all about food experiences, so I am in full support of her excuse. I'm a generic white girl from California, so I don't have that excuse. No matter - we both are obsessed with delicious edible experiences, and among other commonalities, we share a deep passion for the pursuit of the perfect gelato. Even though my gene pool might not have a pull for it, I allow myself to have a daily dose of gelato when visiting Italy - yes, DAILY. It genuinely feels like research, to find the best shop, creamiest consistency, and favorite flavor. Or verify, daily, that I have in fact chosen the deserved winner, in the case of coffee flavor (Italians know coffee) at that shop in Amalfi facing the bus depot (Good thing my longest run in Italy has only been 2 weeks...)

After agreeing that the number on the scale is less important than how we look and feel, I share with Maria that I have this pair of plaid shorts that I've had for a few years, and I am using those as my most valuable measurement right now. They are not the best-looking item of clothing, or even best-looking shorts that I have - this isn't like Oprah's 1988 fantasy jeans (if you are old enough to know what I'm talking about).

It's not about that. The plaid shorts have merely been with me enough years to have sustained a couple of 20-pound round-trip journeys, and they are made of "hard lines," as opposed to any elastic - the fabric itself doesn't "give." So they are like a measuring tape without numbers, tailored to me. I have worn them somewhat baggy (bottom of the 20), I have worn them fitted (mid-20). I have a few pictures of myself in those shorts, proof that when they fit anywhere in there, I am in the "acceptable" range for myself. If they don't fit at all, I'm NOT going to like what I see in photos (a much more accurate self-assessment than a mirror, having to do with self-imposed mind games). When I started this LCD (Low Carb Diet, remember? last reminder) a few weeks ago, they were obscene and didn't actually zip closed. I didn't freak out, I just laughed (BIG GROWTH, no pun intended). "Well, haven't WE gotten uber-fluffy, Jen?? Time to turn this scale-tipper around." Yup, I was at the end of my 20-lb tether.

As I share this, Maria is "um hum"-ing me, she's feelin' me here - regardless of how I FEEL my size is, the plaid shorts are a reality check. She agrees that certain items of clothing are a good marker, and she asserts that all women have a wardrobe of more than one size, because this is how the majority of us live. 

One more point about the plaid shorts that didn't end up coming out in conversation - as a result of past self-torture inflicted by pawing through my closet in my naive youth, I can only try them on when I feel both:

--A. Hopeful (as opposed to trying them on to prove to myself I am still "fat" - no purposeful beating up of self allowed), and 

--B. Positive enough to be KIND to myself in response to the fact-check. To genuinely be able to say, "Hey, you know what? It's getting better, good for you, keep it up, you're hot anyway," blah blah (but not in a WalMart kinda way. This comment will make sense soon).

(Digression: I'm feeling very on-edge while discussing this, as I alter between keystrokes and bites of Talenti Sea Salt Carmel gelato, which I am supposed to be allowed to indulge in today as my one "cheat day" per week to keep my metabolism from stalling. Oh God, Tim Ferris, I'm eating through this pint on invisible faith in you & your 4 Hour Body as one of my voices inside screams, "YOU'RE WRECKING YOUR WEEK'S WORK!!!!!!!" MMMM.... this gelato is seriously... MMMMMM....)

So today, before my Blind Faith Binge Day formally began, I tried on the plaid shorts as a reality marker. I explain to Maria that happily, although they didn't FIT, they zipped, and if I were one of those WalMart girls I'd totally be able to flaunt them today, ignoring the muffin-top spillover, the social unacceptability of the pockets bulging a bit because the fabric is pulling (no give, remember?), and the far-worse social unacceptability of the CAMELTOE that no strategic pulling can as of yet dislodge. 

(Digression #2: I wish that "muffin top" wasn't such an accurate description, because muffins used to be a really happy thing for me & the top is the best part, and I do still love to admire them in their bakery cases. By the way, have you actually checked out a camel's toe? I have, in Egypt, and the term's slang-usage accuracy is akin to that of "muffin top." We apparently have some astutely observant geniuses out there creating our English slang vocabulary for us).  

If I WERE one of those WalMart girls, I'd take today's successful zip-up, do a little waist-twist in front of the mirror, and say, "Oh YAH, they fiiiit! Guuurllll, you lookin' HAWT, you still gottit, mmm hmmm!" But apparently something in me disallows this almost-enviable optimistic view of self.

Maria bursts out laughing. "You really should write a blog. Every woman can relate to that shit right there, and the way you word stuff..." So here you have it, my sassy WalMart-ready look (insert applause here for courage to even post this pic - I look like I'm trying to put on a child's pair of shorts). 

Ironically, I already HAVE such a blog, and even the website URL to go with it. She had no idea DefensiveDressing.com had been birthed (and subsequently abandoned). I took it as a sign it was time to give it some attention, circle back. I know it was very inspired when it all came to me, I just didn't know what the heck to DO with it, got info overload by learning about blogging as a formal topic, reviewed facts and details of it, potential directions to go with it, yadda yadda, all interesting, informative, "food for thought." 

And as I keep hearing from a couple of jaw-droppingly successful guys that make a LOT of money by the KISS method (Keep It Simple, Stupid), "A confused mind is a frozen mind." People don't take action with there's too much going on in there. Moi included. I forgot all there was to do was just type out what I think, feel, and see (literally or figuratively) regarding pretty much anything remotely related to Defensive Dressing on any given day. Since I conveniently live in my human body every day, I always have fresh material at my fingertips. Or at the crest of my muffin top. Or at the toenail of my.....  Ahem. TMI.