Today was a total disaster. It was cool outside.
Anyone in their right mind is now scratching it, mentally, because the above statement makes no sense, especially coming from a delicate and wilting violet such as I. (yes, I did mull that grammar over in my mind, and made a conscious choice to stick with it because figuring out if it was correct was just too much effort, even if it IS cool outside). I am NOT a fan of summer. I'm happy being inside where it's cool and find myself avoiding going outside far more than I do in the winter time.
So. Why would a cool day be a disaster? (you ask timidly). Don't be shy. I'll be the first to admit that it makes no sense. Until you poke your head into my closet and see my jeans wadded up in the corner. Does the light dawn now?
Summer clothes totally have it in for me. And rather than the obvious choice of baring too much skin (I don't wear those, so they don't have a chance) what woman would complain? Clothes tend to be of a more relaxed silhouette, lighter fabrics, cheerful colors. Informality is a watchword. It's all good. You're comfortable and happy. Even your feet have more room to wiggle and rejoice in freedom.
And that is completely what They want you to focus upon.
Because, you see, there's an evil intent behind this apparent lax attitude - your summer clothes Want You Fat. Every elastic waistline, drawstring capri, stretchy polo shirt, and even the open sandals are wooing you to relax. Breathe deeply. Partake of that potato salad, down that extra hot dog. You know you want to. And fresh fruit is SO luscious when smothered in simple syrup and lashed upon shortcake and drowned in whipped cream. And ice cream? How can that be wrong when it's so cool and soothing and refreshing???
And then comes the cool day. Hey, you think, I'll wear my jeans! Old friends! Long time no see!
The first doubt occurs about the time you notice that skimming up over your hips isn't quite the smooth movement it was not so very long ago. In fact, it's a bit of a challenge. But you cite the recent shower and higher humidity (yes I live in a semi-arid state, let me have my little illusions) and determinedly tug a bit.
Doubt number two swoops in as you notice that the button seems further from the button hole than it has been in the past. Having conquered humidity, however, you don't allow distance to defeat you and you suck it in and assert yourself over mere button and fabric.
Doubt number three is a bit more insistent, as the zipper doesn't seem to have been intimidated by your previous victories - in fact, it is even more petulant since you forced the issue with the button, and there seems to be even more distance between those two gleaming rows of metal teeth since the button's failure to hold firm against your plans. Daunted, but by no means desperate, you push and pull until you have defeated the jeans. Victory!
But the triumph is hollow. You now find yourself in a merciless denim grip. There is no escape. You gyrate through a series of "stretching" maneuvers; after all, they are just the ticket after washing your jeans, so that is all that is needed. Stretching.
Unfortunately, stretching has already taken place, and it hasn't been your jeans that expanded. It is your girth that has adapted to the roomier wardrobe and relaxation of every sort, leaping into the void with unabandoned glee and determination.
Now you have a choice. You can leave the jeans on as a stern reminder of your state, hoping that the pressure will assert an authority equal to the lure of summer delicacies, but running the risk of squeezing so hard that you lose consciousness and consume everything within sight to regain your strength, or, you can take them off and put on something kinder and pinky swear to mend your ways in comfort.
Neither one really works, though. Until the days become shorter, the air becomes crisper, and ice cream no longer beckons an irresistible finger to your tastebuds, you're helpless.
Which is why my jeans are in a pile in the corner of my closet. In the darkest corner. Way in the back. But it's all good.
It's going to be hot tomorrow!