Most of the time I am way too poor to even think about shopping for fashionable things, but eventually I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how in the hell I can go out in public and not be embarrassed that my clothes are so raggedy or are squeezing me in inappropriate ways. Shopping once a year for a few fresh items usually does the trick, but in the last two years, my body outpaced my spending ability and desire.
After the first six months of running and completing my first marathon, none of my pants fit me anymore because my legs had gotten so muscular. In response, I bought one new pair of jeans (that were equally ill-fitting in retrospect, but in a different way) and continued to stress all of my pants with my newfound girth. This last year, I have focused on trying to run faster and not quite eating as much. All the exercise makes me hungrier, but dietitians assure me that I do not in fact need to be eating that much more food. So, I have managed to wear my tight old jeans for yet another year and everything seemed fine and dandy…
That is, until I ripped the thigh open on my favorite pair. I looked at the stress marks on the other two pairs and knew that they would soon follow. After an extensive search for a better fit and many jean shops and department stores, I finally accepted that I can no longer shop in the teenybopper section. Regular (well, short) straight-leg jeans fit like those oh-so-popular skinny jeans, and skinny jeans are like straight jackets for my legs. STRAIGHT JACKETS, I tell you. (I would buy boot cut or something even roomier, but I need pants that are safe from my voracious bike chain. Is that so much to ask?)
To keep a long story long, I landed in a section I never wanted to ever have to shop in. I will not divulge the name here, but I suspect that one could guess it in a couple of tries upon looking at me in my pants. It was a sad day, but I did come home with four new pairs of jeans (black, khaki and two shades of blue) that fit beautifully. Now that I have retrofit my wardrobe with fitted pants and a new pair of shorts in my now larger size, I feel a bit better about the process of culling the clothes that don’t fit right anymore. This is the hardest part, to be sure.
Some of my favorite clothes ever only fit when I had puny little noodle legs. I learned this lesson years ago when I started doing push-ups at karate class and my arms no longer fit into the cute teenybopper-blouse sleeves, but somehow it cuts deeper now that it’s my legs. I guess I thought I already had some decent leg muscles, so it was simultaneously upsetting that I had to buy new pants while giving up my old favorites and also that my “strong” legs (which had fueled my self esteem for years) had been a farce!
Anyhow, even I want to punch me in the face right now because I am obviously whining about something pretty unimportant. I just needed to externalize my ridiculous thoughts so that I could move forward with purchasing the last few things I need for a decent wardrobe and check this puppy off my list with a clear mind.
Over the last few weeks, I also found some affordable snow boots and winter scarves that actually match the rest of my clothes and don’t smell bad. Ditto on the shoes – I replaced my stinky black ballet flats with some nice new suede ones ($8 at Target) and adopted some leather knee-high boots from my sister in case I ever need to go out in a dress before spring arrives in full force. That should tide me over until December when I will ask for whatever my body decides to break in 2009 and then buy whatever I don’t get during the after-Christmas sales.
Thank goodness I was already a cheapskate before I felt the need to be so independent and poor.
