I don’t know what I have been thinking. I stayed on a strict Weight Watchers regimen for two years. I didn’t weigh myself or anything, just counted points and chugged along. Nothing seemed to be happening.
Then I went in for my physical and discovered I had lost those pesky thirteen pounds. I was elated fleetingly, until I went in to one of those stores where you get new glasses frames.
I picked out my frames, and the stock person came out of the back room holding them. I was across the store. “These are for Mrs. Campbell,” she said in a soft voice to one of her co-workers. The co-worker tipped her head in my direction, saying, in a not so sotto voice, “She’s the one over there in the baggy pants.”
I have been wearing the same size pants for years. Granted they have gotten tight at times, but now they fit fine. I thought.
But when the same day I met my daughter for lunch, and she remarked, “Are those pants size 16 or something? They’re huge.” I guess I haven’t really studied myself in a full length mirror lately.
When I got home, I asked my husband: do you think these pants are too baggy? Do they look dumpy?”
He looked at me seriously and simply nodded.
“They look dumpy? I look dumpy?”
He shrugged and said, “You haven’t noticed that all your pants look like that? Like you got them off the wrong rack at Goodwill?”
I just got 3 new pairs of pants from Old Navy. I tried them on tonight. I LOOK DUMPY.
This is how being an old person hits you. One day you are fine, chic, and stylish, and then you wake up one morning and you are suddenly dumpy. GOODWILL DUMPY.
Back to Old Navy where my fear is that the next size down will be too tight, and so I will have to remain dumpy.
sigh
