Fallen of the Clothes Horse

I am at war.  This insidious enemy is devious and destructive so I must be wary.  Actually, this enemy is unavoidable as I am battling myself.... embroiled in the Battle of the Bulge.

For six short weeks I adopted a Lassiez-faire attitude and indulged in food and drink.  I ignored the gym, eschewed any form of exercise.  After all, I thought, you should accrue a fit body from working out and that should ensure that you are immune to getting pudgy.  Andouille sausage, butter and olive foccacia, Dulce Tres Leche cake, a Sonoma wine tour, creme brulee, foie gras, pheasant slowly roasted in a butter sage sauce.  I didn't miss the burpees or the squats... until that fateful 42nd day.  As if overnight, I had added another inch to my frame and couldn't coax the zipper of my jeans past my hips.  A lifetime dedicated to diet and exercise eradicated in six weeks.

As I moved my clothes from my old closet to new yesterday, I stared wistfully at the size 2 Oscar de la Renta suit and the size 4 Diane von Furstenburg dresses.  The red satin crop pants, the strapless Tracey Reese cocktail dress I wore to the first Derby party, the horde of Citizens, Joe's and 7 for all Mankind jeans.  I care about the fate of the world, health care, the next election, Darfur and homeless animals... I do. However, I am also a slave to fashion.  God, I love clothes.  It is so painful to relegate these beautiful pieces, many acquired quite stealthily from Goodwill, to the Basement of Shame, where all my out of season and suddenly too small clothes go.

Was that 30 seconds of creme brulee worth a St. John one shouldered frock?  The pheasant for the Max Mara wool sheath?  I have returned to the gym, wearing fleece and sweats.  In quiet moments at the house, I will bust out 50 squats or 25 sit ups.  I also bought jeans a size larger, at Old Navy.  I had sorbet for dessert last night instead of the chocolate ganache torte.  I'm prepared to give up beer.  I have to get back down to my fighting weight, if for no other reason than because I cannot afford to replace my wardrobe.  Plus, I just downright love my clothes... I love telling my incredulous friends that I actually did find those Rock and Republic jeans at Goodwill and that I scored that Prada dress for 85% off at Neiman's Last Call.  I have put time, effort and yes, sometimes even money into my wardrobe.  I'm proud of it.

And maybe that is my problem... Pride goeth before the fall.

Ah, yes but there will always be shoes....