Mr. In-Between

Lawrence Toppman

I tipped the scale at 182 today, 2.5 pounds short of my goal, and I'm in that weird place where my pants are a little too large. If I let them hang down, I look like an elderly white hip-hop artist; if I cinch my belt tight and tuck my stomach underneath, I look like a farmer out for his first big night on the town since the election of Bill Clinton.

I can strive harder and drop a few more pounds, thus getting into the next smaller size. Or I can buy new pants of the same size I have now and hope that a good long baking in the dryer brings them down where I need them to be. (I tried this with a sweater once and ended up with a garment that would have been form-fitting for a dachshund.)

I suppose I could always go the dashiki route. One of my college roommates bought one in order to disguise a burgeoning belly and told me that, with a dashiki, no one could tell you needed to lose weight. I was too polite to point out that anyone who saw you in a dashiki automatically assumed you wore it BECAUSE you were hiding a paunch. (Later, when we fell out, I spitefully made this clear to him.)

I believe I'm going to slump around with slightly overlarge clothes until I slowly get down to a size 36 waist and make sure I can stay there. The main advantage to this plan is that people always say, "My, you've lost weight" when they see a gap 'twixt gut and jeans. If you wear clothes that fit properly, you miss out on those compliments.