Love Handles

If you'd been anywhere close to the vicinity of a Zara clothing store this evening, you'd have heard a deathly loud scream of intense horror before an ensuing thud of blissful unconsciousness - followed by the panicked sounds of a storewide commotion.

Time enough that I had a wardrobe change and the recent sales has given me some slight incentive. And although there's no way I'd ever find a formal occasion ( in our sultry weather! ) to wear a spiffy wool suit, that certainly doesn't stop me from trying them out for size. Unfortunately Father Time just had to throw a spanner into the works.

Not only am I approaching the big old 3-0, I also realized that something else is also increasing rapidly in double digits. Surely I didn't expect to remain a scrawny undernourished Twiggy waif forever but this evening I came to realize that I certainly wasn't going to fit into my secondary school pants any longer. Cholesterol-laden, obese couch potato genes run in the family but I was hoping that it would skip a generation at least but once I picked up the slim-fit khakis ( possibly made with superslim, near-anorexic studs like Justin Timberlake in mind ), I knew that I was rapidly losing the neverending Battle of the Bulge. No way was I gonna fit into that obscenely tight pair without either an abdominoplasty & radical gastric stapling or sucking in my breath so deep that I'd probably expire once I took a step out of the changing room.

Sucking it in caused the thud mentioned earlier.


Making a change
Hate to pander to the general notion that gay men are all gifted with a sublime though admittedly shallow obsession with their looks and I certainly have no dying ambition to develop that much-adored tight six-pack ( doubt I'd have the insane dedication to starve myself to a less than 5% fat content )... but hey, I'm a realist. I'd just like to squeeze into my old pants without a corset, maybe even a tight chest-revealing tee or two. :P Nothing too drastic like a radical surgical / mental / physical Swan makeover. Losing just a handful of kilogrammes would be more than enough to satisfy me.

Calorie-counting near-vegetarian Big Bicep Barry was right after all. Damn the sinfully oil-dripping fried chicken. Damn the delicious awesome blossom of onion rings. Damn rich high-calorie Haagen Dazs.

Sigh. I will miss them. From now on, it's alfalfa and bean sprouts. Anyone have any good diet plans? Does that mean I'll have to hit the dumbbells again?