Failing the Shirt Test

My cue that it is time to take back control of my diet doesn't necessarily come from the new year.  It does not result directly from the barrage of advertising aimed at holiday overindulgers, although I certainly had a vary good holiday, food consumption-wise.  No, it comes from something a bit more tangible.

I fail the shirt test.

I have a row of dress shirts, part of the standard garb for an accountant,  that I must choose between to make it through the work week.  Half of the m are one half-size smaller than the others.  The first thing that goes is the smaller size.  Stage one they become tight.  Stage two, the buttons strain when I try to button it up.  So, at that point, I have cut my shirt supply in half.

But that is not enough to cue me.  It is when some of the larger size starts to get tight, that I finally realize I have to do something.  Because if I don't, I will have to do one of the things I dread most.....

I will have to shop for new shirts.

And whether it is a male thing or just a me thing, I hate to shop for new clothes.  It is especially painful when you have to break into bigger sizes.  I have to start wandering into the Big 'n' Tall section, and trust me, it ain't because I am tall.

I prefer to wear clothes relatively loose.  I cannot stand to be tightly bound in my clothing.  Unfortunately, that is difficult to maintain, as my other problem is the goldfish syndrome.  It is said that a goldfish will expand and grow to the size of its tank.  The rare times I have had goldfish, that has been true.  And I am like a goldfish in my clothes.  I expand until whatever clothes I'm wearing get to be tight.  Ah, how comfortable, I think.  Why, I can eat what I want because my clothes are wonderful and loose!  And the next thing you know...I'm looking at a closet full of clothes I can barely fit into.  I fear what will happen when I retire and spend most of my time in stretchable sweat pants.  Like the goldfish, somebody'll  have to go out and get a bigger tank.

I have gotten to the point and age where getting my weight under control is for more than just making myself more attractive.  Why, I'm already about as purty as the world can stand, at least according to the person that matters the most, my truly beautiful espousal connection, Alison.  I need to do better in order to improve my health.  I'm in pretty good health, but that's not going to last unless I take care of myself.  As much as I want to eat like my teenage boy (time for another pizza/ice cream run!), it's probably no longer the best thing for me.

All the diets I see are very confusing. Disregarding those that are cons and gimmicks, they all seem to come down to the same thing - eat less, exercise more.  That is real easy to say, but much harder to put in practice.  Sort of like love your God, love your neighbor.  You understand what you're supposed to do, but often human frailty and worldly temptation gets in the way.  

So wish me luck.  And if you see me clothes shopping, know that chances are I have failed.  Know that it means that this goldfish has given up and just decided to get a bigger tank.