That means I’m more than halfway to my goal of losing 75 lbs, and finally light enough to have to worry again about being blown away should a tornado hit.
Of course, being skinnier isn’t all fun and games. It does have its downside, and I had to deal with one such problem on my day off yesterday.
I had to go clothes shopping.
Not because being thinner gave me a new fashion sense, but because nothing in my closet fit me anymore.
I felt like the kid from Big when he was wandering around in Tom Hanks’ suit…
Since I really have no fashion sense, and because I crave convenience, I trudged the two miles up to Walmart for a wardrobe update.
I bought three new pairs of work pants and a new pair of jeans. I didn’t want to go to overboard, though, because I plan on losing even more weight. Every size down also lightens the weight of my wallet, you know?
So I’m now down two pants sizes or four inches in the waist.
As much as I hate clothes shopping, I want someone’s opinion to tell me if I’m buying the right items. When I was dating Melissa, we would video chat from the men’s section, so she could approve my purchases from Ireland as I wandered the aisles with no clue.
Yesterday, I had to ask the Walmart lady who stands outside the changing room to make sure I wasn’t going to shoplift, if she thought a pair of pants looked good on me. She probably thought it was part of some clever ruse to distract her so I could run off with $15 slacks, but she did tell me she thought they were too long on me.
As always, I got stuck on the slowest line. Because this particular Walmart requires all its cashiers to have been born before World War II, my line was operated by someone who probably voted for FDR.
In addition, the woman ahead of me must have purchased everything in the store that was not in my cart. And she apparently removed all the price tags before getting in line because FDR’s biggest fan could not seem to find a price on any of the 30,000 items stacked perilously on the conveyor belt.
What might have amazed me the most, however, was the cashier’s sheer determination to fit all 30,000 products into a single shopping bag. She kept cramming things in that bag like I used to stuff my fat boy legs into a pair of jeans.
It was infuriating, but also impossible not to watch.
When I finally got back to The House on the Hill, I made a little ceremony of removing the Fat Boy items from my closet and replacing them with the Skinnier Guy clothes.
I hired a jazz trio to play uplifting tunes, had a photographer take lots of pictures, and made the interns line up and applaud as every giant article of clothing was removed and then carefully turned into a tent that could accommodate three people.
As far as problems go, they’re not the worst.
With a few more months of dedication and hard work, I’ll look like the happy guy in the photo on the left. Only 36 lbs to go.
Maybe by then, I will have found someone special to help me pick out my skinnier guy clothes. Not that the woman in Walmart yesterday wasn’t special, of course…