Pants!

My small pants are too big, my big pants are too small...*

I recently read a post by Neil Gaiman at his website about the 'jeans test' to figure out whether you've been putting on weight. This is a phenomenon currently sweeping my closet. My baggy jeans fit perfectly and my favourite cargo pants (ie my only cargo pants which are 10 years old because I cannot find a pair that doesn't have 'bits' - ie toggles and random zips and straps and shit - all over them), which were my 'comfy' pair of pants now leave marks on my stomach if I sit for too long.

At least Mr Gaiman has a winter to blame his weight gain on - I have nothing. In fact, I've been quite healthily eating plenty of vegetables and exercising a lot in the past couple of months. Yes, I do snack and I do eat out but no more than usual (ie, the last couple of years) so I can't really understand why I'm starting to pile it on now.

For confirmation, I saw my weight in numbers when I went to give blood because they have to weigh you to make sure you're in the eligible weight range to donate. Seems I've put on 6kg since the last time they weighed me (nine months ago), which was itself 3kgs up on my weight six months prior to that. Generally speaking, I need to lose about 10kgs to get back to my mass 18 months ago.

The thing is, when I look at myself in the nude I don't look fat, but the clothes test never lies (and neither do the scales) and damned if I'm going to buy clothes that won't fit WHEN I lose weight.

And the worst thing? The worst thing is not all the work I have to put into losing the extra kilos. The dietary discipline, the punishing exercise regime, I can handle. It's the fact that I have to become a cliche 'person on a diet' that bloody well shits me. Low fat everything, refusing biscuits with afternoon tea that no longer exists and fake sugar. Ugh, I hate fake sugar, I think I'll do without. Save me!

* By the way, this does make sense. It means even my smallest pants are considered 'large' size and what I thought were big pants are too tight.

Moonshadow

Sir G and I took the tele-ma-scope up the hill to follow the eclipse d'lune. Within minutes we attracted a jogger who told Sir that she looked 'wonderful'. He then hung around for an uncomfortable amount of time while she pretended he wasn't there. He asked for her number. She refused and continued adjusting her telescope. He jogged onward.

Later, we were joined by a family of three with a teenage son, then a family of four with two toddlers, one of which kept babbling about his 'shark on', which turned out to be the account of his day whereby he went to the beach and had his 'shark [costume] on'. A white and ginger cat slinked around and many a passer-by stopped to gaze up with us.

I don't have a tripod so here's one of the pics I took with my camera perched on the edge of a tub of capsicum dip:



On the way home I irritated Sir by singing Cat Stevens' 'Moonshadow'. Well, just the refrain "Moooonshadow, moonshadow...".