Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A Day In The Life

Does this make me look fat?
No. Your fat makes you look fat.

Bogue? Oh, yes...but true. My fat makes me look fat. And old. Are those jowls on either side of my mouth? Is the reason I lack too many visible wrinkles is because my fat's pressing them out?


I'd really like to step on the scale and see the number go down for a change. And then I got my wish. I went to my doctor's on Saturday. I boldly stepped on the scale. A 5-pound loss since December?

I've worked out hard, gone to bed hungry, put back that second cookie, tracked my calories like some OCD math nerd. 5 pounds? Are you fucking kidding me? I stepped off the scale feeling my heart get fat with disappointment. I told myself that it's better than the alternative, but truly, I could put on 5 pounds in hours. I wouldn't even have to try to gain 5 pounds. Why the hell is it so damned hard for me to lose more than a few pounds?

My doctor eyeballed me. The other numbers told the rest of the story: Blood pressure was 110/70. My resting heart rate was 68 after several cups of coffee. My temperature habitually ran low. Today, I logged in at 97.5.

I shrugged.

He paged through my file, silently and then tapped the hormone test results page. "You'll need another hormone test," he muttered. "These are more than six months old...and your thyroid was borderline. We may have to put you on thyroid medication."

Magic words, thyroid medication.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Fat Lady Fashion

Fat lady fashion is sort of a misnomer. It exists somewhere on paper, but in reality, it bites. It's hard to dress simply anymore. I'm a khaki pants and tee shirt kind of woman in a world that eschews these items. I'm neither 60 nor 20 years old, so apparently, I don't exist. Here's what I mean:

The fat lady store stocks old lady clothes and twenty-something club wear. That nice Alfred Dunner slack suit doesn't exactly scream old age, but it's not denying it, either. The very fact that I know what Alfred Dunner clothing looks like marks me for more than a twenty something.

The club wear is covered in glitter, weird artsy drawings in weird artsy colors, topographically raised flowers, strappy tees that require me to wear another shirt underneath (two shirts? why?), empire waists that make me look and feel like an expectant mother, and stretchy pants that bag in the butt but won't fit around my waist.

None of this stuff looks good at the office. Even the funky tie-dyed stuff you think is relatively hip. It's not. It's a pale imitation of the real thing...and no true hippie would be caught dead in rayon. It's sort of like trying to buy goth at Hot Topic.

Torrid, by the way, is the goth store for fat ladies. You haven't lived until you've seen a really big pair of red lace panties. Hot.

Shopping in the men's section has been an option but only if I want fatigues, cargo pants and jeans that look like I've worn them in the shop for too many days in a row. Cargo pants and fatigues? Check. The pants that look filthy are completely out of the question. I'd waste a lot of time trying to wash the coolness out.

But even trying to find a ladies pair of pants at the fat lady stores has been challenging. Where the hell can I find long pants? They're with the shorts because I can't find a decent pair of them, either. Some designer somewhere decided back in 2007 that no fat woman should be caught wearing long pants or shorts. We should all move to wearing capris 24/7.

I. Hate. Capris. There. I said it. At best, they're summer slacks, but women in this part of the world have been wearing them in the winter. They mistakenly believe that they can pair these cropped pants with socks and shoes or boots and be fashionable. Nope. Fail. And just because they sport wide legs doesn't give you a pass. It means you're wearing gauchos and gauchos suck worse than capris.

Capris, trim and similar to straight-leg slacks cropped around the awkward part of the calf, are best worn with strappy sandals, sans socks. The biggest exception to this recommendation? Gladiator sandals. They're proof that designers have a sense of humor. The gladiator sandal is a boot, shoe and sandal all rolled into one. Designers think they're expressive and fun. I think they suck...and so did gladiators.

Their sandals became a standard military issue because because a) it's too fucking hot in Greece to go barefoot when you're marching 27 miles a day over rocky terrain and b) athlete's foot goes away if the feet are kept dry and aired out. The gladiator sandal met both of those requirements. They weren't meant to be a fashion statement. Until now.

If you ever see me wearing gladiator sandals, you'll know that I'm going to sing.

Because common sense is neither common nor sensical, long pants are out, but long dresses are IN! Listen to the logic: It's too hot to wear capris, so I'll wear MORE clothing below. To compensate, I'll keep the upper part of me nearly bare. Except I'm really uncomfortable knowing that my back fat's out in the open, prone to flappin' when I laugh too hard. That very fear of back flappage makes me put on a sweater.

How is this cooler again?

Fat lady clothing designers, please give me something to wear that doesn't involve a lot of glitter, faux rock star glam, a bunch of artsy hippie crap in dingy 70s colors, elasticized and/or empire waists, stuff that looks like I'd wear it to my seniors group on Wednesdays, or pants that don't show my knees. I'd like to go back to my simple tee shirt and khakis uniform. Thanks.