It was five weeks ago today that I had surgery. I’ve lost close to 45 pounds. I’ve gone from a 44 waist and 3x shirts to about a 40 waist and 2x and XL shirts. I’m noticing that my face looks skinnier. My belly looks flatter, and I can actually see my wrists and ankles. My wrists and ankles looked like the joints on the Michelin Man. It seems like my waist isn't shrinking in proportion to rest of my body. The belly is just tricking me by looking flatter. It’s like I’ve gone from fluffy to flat pancakes. It's still the same size around.
So, with the shrinkage, I decided to clean out my clothes closet. It was about time, I guess. My wife and I share a walk-in closet. We share it in the sense that we don’t share it. She uses the space she needs. I get what’s left over. I don’t mind. My wife has a lot of clothes. She rotates through them with the same frequency as Hailey’s Comet.
I have my share of unworn clothes too. They’re all sitting at the far end of the clothes rod gathering dust. There seems to be a story attached to each article. To get rid of them would be like throwing out family photos. They remind me of some pleasant and not-so-pleasant memories.
Other than my underwear and socks, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t wearing at least one thrift-store item. I love thrift stores. I like to buy gently used items. Some the items are used so gently that the jeans only have one hole in the knee. I treasure the shirts that are missing buttons, or have a completely unrelated button as a replacement. It’s like the previous owner didn’t even try. All the buttons are off-white except one. It is right in the middle and it is twice as big and is jeweled with rhinestone, silver, gold, and turquoise accents. I leave it on. No one will notice.
Under a pile of something resembling a knot of t-shirts and sweat pants, I see a pair of jeans that I purchased at a thrift store in Jackson, WY while we were on vacation in the Grand Tetons. I think they fit me for one millisecond after I bought them. I think I outgrew them walking to the car. Now, I try them on. Yeah! They fit again. They remind of the trip to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone that we took about five years ago. We camped in the Tetons for a few days and then moved on to West Yellowstone. The highlight of the trip was visiting the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center. There we were able to experience Grizzlies and Wolves in their natural habitat, if their natural habitat is a fenced off enclosure in West Yellowstone. We also got to see them forage for food in nature, if nature hides dead salmon in tree trunks, under logs, and behind boulders. The most exciting part was when we visited the garbage can area. On display are garbage cans that are supposed to be bear-proof. To test the can’s worthiness, people put food in the garbage cans and throw them in with the bears (the garbage can, not the people). There were several designs on display. If I remember, most of them failed miserably. Bear claws shred plastic. I learned that. I’m glad I saw this display before I started marketing my plastic bear-proof suit (two Hefty bags and a pair of moon boots). I think they should take the garbage can’s designer, smear him with bacon grease, and put him in the can. I would have paid double to see that (which would have been about $150 for two adults and three kids).
I’m throwing out 3x shirts. I’m throwing them right out of the closet and onto the bathroom floor. You have to walk through the bathroom to get to the walk in closet, which is great for getting dressed right out of the shower, but a little inconvenient when you need a pair of socks and someone is ‘reading a book’ in the bathroom, if you get my drift.
Now I come across a really cool Hawaiian shirt that I bought at a very tidy thrift store in Manzanita, OR. We stayed on the beach in near Manzanita for ten days. It was the trip of a lifetime. The thrift store was called The Hope Chest, and I was feeling pretty hopeful when I bought the shirt. It is a 3x. It didn’t fit. It was too small. I bought it anyway. It’s hung in my closet for a year and a half. I try it on now. It still doesn't fit. It is too big. I’m disappointed. I run out and buy a cheesecake. I'll eat it all just so I can fit in this shirt again. It doesn’t help. I figure if I really work at it, I could eat a cheesecake in three weeks. Three weeks is too long. I expect to be done cleaning before then. I sadly add my Hawaiian shirt to the pile.
More bad fitting clothes and worse stories to come...
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