muffin-style

The jeans I am wearing today deserve a blog entry, I've decided. They're a pair I bought in Japan the year before last. They are a little granny-like in that they are high-waisted, but they are a pretty color, which is why I liked them so much when I got them.

The point of this post, though, is that I haven't been able to wear these jeans comfortably since I got back to the U.S. and started eating cow-sized portions again. At first the jeans just became uncomfortably tight. Uncomfortably tight I can deal with, on occasion. But as the months went by and I took advantage of the vast and varied feeding opportunities at work, the jeans went from "uncomfortably tight" to "I don't want to try them on for fear of manic depression afterwards." Finally I threw them into one of my storage containers at home, hoping against hope that I would exercise and someday be able to fit into them [comfortably, with room to eat] again.

Last weekend I whipped out my jeans again, feeling bold and courageous and willing to face the truth...sort of. And this is what happened:

1) I tried to pull the jeans on. It was difficult, but after straining my arms, I was able to tug them up my legs.
2) I couldn't get them up high enough to even make the edges of the fabric meet (at the top of the fly). So I had to leap into the air several times to pull the jeans up further.
3) I couldn't button them up so I had to lie down and thrash about like a fish out of water to finally get them fastened.

After all this, I discovered that

a) I was having problems breathing properly; and
b) my belly was contorted from the constricting pressure of the waistline, causing excess flesh to bulge over the edge of the jeans.

Some friends and I were discussing the too-tight-jeans phenomenon over Christmas. One of them described it as "muffin-style." I find this phrase very apt, if repulsive. I think I'm introducing it to my general vocabulary.

I am wearing the jeans today. I don't know why I do this to myself.