List Items Achieved! #51: Pants

By the middle of 2021, I was, in a word, fat.

Not the cool kind of fat, as in phat, but just plain-old fat. In the middle of my battle with Longhaul Covid and following a course of Hail-Mary high-dose steroids to fix a Longhauler mouth issue that remains to this day, I punished my scale by stepping on it, and in return it nastily told me I was 218 pounds.

“Hmm,” I thought. “Interesting.”

Not interesting enough to do anything about it, of course. Not for a few more months, anyway. It wasn’t as if exercising was an option. Most of the time I couldn’t walk up the stairs without my lungs feeling as if they were going to explode.

Alas, all I had to do was completely revolutionize the way I ate.

Once I ditched traditional Western medicine and, in desperation, went to a functional medicine doctor (shout-out to you, Dr. Laura!), I was confronted with the reality that just about everything I stuffed down my gullet caused massive internal inflammation that was making me, well, to be generous, puffy.

So I changed everything. I gave up anything processed, and I became one of those annoying assholes who asks for gluten-free options (but not without lots of shame, so at least there’s that). I essentially became a more strict version of paleo.

And I lost more than 30 pounds.

Now, to be fair, when I started, I didn’t give a rip if I lost a single pound. I just wanted to maybe feel like I wasn’t going to die.

“Oh, I could never eat like you eat!” I frequently hear.

Yeah ya could … if you’d tried everything else to get back to the land of the living and were still just as lost as you were the day you started your journey. Desperation is a wonderful motivator.

The problem is that my pants now are fallin’ down all the time.

I’d bought new pants near the height of my fatness. These pants no longer fit.

“Why don’t you just wear a belt?”

Duh. I wear a belt. Put it this way: You can tighten a belt only so much before you’ve created new problems. One, the little clasp that fastens dress pants? It comes apart easily when you tighten them so much. And two, tightening the pants doesn’t change the fact that they look like tents on me now.

Enter Tony Kornheiser.

For those of you not in the know, Mr. Tony is the host of the long-running ESPN show “Pardon The Interruption” — PTI, to us cool kids — and has a not-quite-daily-these-days podcast called, aptly, The Tony Kornheiser Show. He’s a veteran Washington Post journalist and an aging curmudgeon who makes me laugh.

One of his podcast sponsors is Indochino, a made-to-order dress-clothes etailer. Never doubt the power of testimonial advertising, kids. It is solely because of Indochino’s frequent TK Pod advertising that I punched up their website, picked out some dress pants and then had Wifey Poo measure me.

In a series of how-to-measure-someone videos, they tell you to find a friend and a tape measure. I wondered what kind of mere friend I could possibly have who would be comfortable measuring my crotch, which is accomplished by starting the tape measure at your belly button and running it to your lower back as if it were the dental-floss part of a thong.

Thankfully, I’ve got Wifey Poo and she has no issues working in that general area.

And so it is that I placed my order for two pairs of pants last night that hopefully will actually fit the new me. They’re supposed to take four to six weeks to arrive — something I was extremely familiar with when I ordered cassette tapes back in the 1980s but that seems excruciatingly long in the Prime twenty-twenties.

So to wrap this bad boy up, special thanks to everyone who made this possible — Dr. Laura, Tony Kornheiser and, most of all, Wifey Poo, whose hazard pay is in the mail.


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