The time has come, the hour is nigh...for me to start losing some of this belly fat. Oh, yes, and the first day of the Paralympics is today.
But while I wait for my departure on a jet plane, I've been feverishly frequenting all the posh used clothing stores within a ten mile radius of my home. And this is not because I love shopping. Far from it. I really detest it, actually.
But I also detest my current wardrobe, which appears to be about twenty seasons old. And it probably is, considering most of it came from pre-owned clothing stores to begin with. It's a vicious cycle.
I was deeply regretting my life choices yesterday when I found myself in the dressing room of one of the aforementioned stores with no less than ten dresses to try on.
Fitting rooms have always been torturous places for me, for reasons like my lack of left arm and twisted torso, making hopeless most attempts to find clothing that suited me.
Now these seem minor details compared to the tummy and love handles I'm having to hurdle. Walking out with two articles of clothing when you've just tried on fifteen leaves one with a grumpy sense of defeat; wondering if 'fitting room' is really the correct nomenclature. Not fitting rooms, more like. Ladies, I know you feel me. Men, if you're still here, just nod sympathetically.
Meanwhile, across the pond, athletes in much better shape than I, have assembled for top competition. I'm just hoping the ridiculously expensive shoes I recently acquired will hold up while I traipse around the city.
And traipsing there will be aplenty, especially if my father has anything to do with it. I spoke with him on the phone yesterday and he was full of ideas for filling up our rather fluid schedule while in London. I think he said something about Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, but I was daydreaming about pubs.
But alas, pubs are now my enemy. Beer, my once good friend, has grown into a caloric monster right before the fitting room mirror.
I've only got two more days to get things ship shape around here, and I don't think that will include my belly, but much more doable things, like laundry. So I'll toast the Paralympians with a scoop of detergent. And London, I'll see you soon.
OneArmGirl
But while I wait for my departure on a jet plane, I've been feverishly frequenting all the posh used clothing stores within a ten mile radius of my home. And this is not because I love shopping. Far from it. I really detest it, actually.
I was deeply regretting my life choices yesterday when I found myself in the dressing room of one of the aforementioned stores with no less than ten dresses to try on.
Fitting rooms have always been torturous places for me, for reasons like my lack of left arm and twisted torso, making hopeless most attempts to find clothing that suited me.
Now these seem minor details compared to the tummy and love handles I'm having to hurdle. Walking out with two articles of clothing when you've just tried on fifteen leaves one with a grumpy sense of defeat; wondering if 'fitting room' is really the correct nomenclature. Not fitting rooms, more like. Ladies, I know you feel me. Men, if you're still here, just nod sympathetically.
Meanwhile, across the pond, athletes in much better shape than I, have assembled for top competition. I'm just hoping the ridiculously expensive shoes I recently acquired will hold up while I traipse around the city.
And traipsing there will be aplenty, especially if my father has anything to do with it. I spoke with him on the phone yesterday and he was full of ideas for filling up our rather fluid schedule while in London. I think he said something about Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, but I was daydreaming about pubs.
But alas, pubs are now my enemy. Beer, my once good friend, has grown into a caloric monster right before the fitting room mirror.
I've only got two more days to get things ship shape around here, and I don't think that will include my belly, but much more doable things, like laundry. So I'll toast the Paralympians with a scoop of detergent. And London, I'll see you soon.
OneArmGirl
Cheerio, and Godspeed!
ReplyDeletelast time I visited London was in 1998- that, and Ireland and Scotland! Gorgeous places.
ReplyDeleteANd I like that dress