Pic of the day: You still can't count my ribs. But you may start to count my trousers.
I rarely ever throw away clothes. Perhaps if they are full of holes beyond repair. Actually I still have a few of those lying around as well. Perhaps I can use them as rags. Or perhaps I'll think again when the time soon comes to move all my earthly goods to a new apartment...
But as for those clothes that are still whole -- and this is by far most of the mass -- I can be glad now that I haven't thrown them away. After I switched to low-fat eating and frequent hill-walking, my trousers in particular have grown wider and wider.
This week again I found that my trousers were hanging only from the belt and otherwise billowing randomly at some distance from my body. Not a bad word about decency, but this looked a little comical. So I digged into the wardrobe, looking at clothes that had lain forlorn and neglected for a long time. And behold, there was one that had in the past rejected to even close on my midsection. Now it was slightly loose, but not obviously so for any passing stranger to see. I probably have a few more of them, but not many. My great clothes-buying fad happened while I was rather chubbier than now. Those clothes are not only more numerous but also more expensive, as befits the upper middle class milieu of my friends at the time.
I suppose this time I could throw away (or give away, given their price) the surplus. It seems unlikely now that I shall regain that weight. Even if I eat more fat, I just get sick, and lose even more weight. It seems now that my reduced ability to digest fat is a permanent feature. Chronic may be the word, but I am sure millions would wish to have such an illness. Indeed, if this is all there is to it, I can live with it for quite some time. At least as long as I can find older, smaller clothes...
Visit the ChaosNode.net for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.