“Say goodbye to these clothes,you will never fit in them again”, a friend suggested to a pregnant me, explaining how she could no more wear her pre-pregnancy clothes, even after the birth of her child. Her remark didn’t seem cogent to me at that time. I tried to dismiss the thought. It was impossible to give away these nicely fitting clothes of mine, which flattered me, which made me my self.
But I did make a mental assessment of my wardrobe and that one pair of jeans stood out above all. It simply outshone the rest of the booties.That pair of jeans, my husband had gifted to me after our marriage. Being in those jeans made me feel good, confident. I believe the beauty of a dress lies not in what it makes you look but what it makes you feel. Those jeans made me feel on top of the world, self confident,able to take the world in my stride.It made my gait full of surety and purpose. The thought of not wearing it again cut my heart.
After my son’s birth, I realized how true my friend had been. All those pounds added do not disappear after a baby’s birth, they linger on, lean on you, cling to you like soul-sucking parasites.You simply cannot shake them off.
And I gave away, got rid of loads of my dear clothes with a heavy heart. No point stuffing these clothes into the closet and letting them rot. My wardrobe instantly shrunk to about half.
But those jeans I could not discard. I could not part with them. Although they are almost worn out, much used, which subtly speaks of my love for them, they are my precious.
I still have those jeans stored carefully in my closet. That is my aspiration, to fill those pair of jeans again. I feel jealous of men who can retain their jeans size, if they eat sensibly. Being a dad has no effect on their wardrobe.
And I don’t care how fantastic those young girls look; I don’t give a damn to the models’ looks. But whenever I see a slim and svelte woman dressed in fitting jeans with a tucked-in shirt, carrying a baby in her arms and holding the hand of another toddler, I turn green with envy.I covet her.Her stride is imbued with aplomb and pride.
Is she really the natural mother of these kids ?Maybe she adopted them.
Is she on a strict diet?
Or did she undergo the painful much advertised tummy-tucking surgery?
But maybe she just isn’t lazy bones and sweats and works out regularly, eats half of what I do.
Sometimes before breakfast, on an empty stomach, hoping to achieve it, I secretly try on those aspiration jeans. I compress myself, sometimes am able to squeeze in but I can’t breathe the next moment. A cruel fiasco!! Alas, the day hasn’t arrived.
But I live in the hope that that morning will come, it has to come. And that belief is strong enough to pull my legs out for a walk, a little workout.