The jeans don't lie

I haven't had occasion to get into my bikini on this trip, before now. I think I look pretty good in it, really. Especially when you look at the general state of bodies around the pool. But there's no denying I now have a few new curves where there were slighter ones before.

Up until now I've been reasonably blase about the possibility of gaining weight. If my clothes still fit, which is my usual gage of what kind of shape my body's in, I figure I'm doing OK. I honestly couldn't tell you what I weighed before I came away, or any time in the last year, actually. I don't own scales. And on holiday it's been the same. Sandy has been complaining of his newly acquired belly (it's there, but you can't really see it when he's dressed), but for me the skirts, dresses and trousers I'm traveling with, everything still seemed to fit and I looked OK in it, so: so far, so good. That's what I thought. (Incidentally it's worth noting that clothing sizes in European countries are as confused as they are in NZ. In the UK I am either a size 10 or 12; and a small or a medium; in Europe I am either a 38 or a 40, a small or a medium or a large(!), or for chains that use American sizing, a 6 or an 8. Don't even get me started on the shoe sizing.)

Anyway when we got to Nice I put my jeans on to go to dinner. Now, other clothes can lie to you. Trousers with a bit of lycra, bias-cut dresses. They lull and flatter you into a false sense of skinniness. But jeans - my Paper Denim & Cloth, straight-leg, non-stretch jeans: these do not lie. The jeans are definitely tighter than they were before. The button is under strain. In fact, by the end of dinner I had to quietly undo the button under my shirt! This is not a feeling I'm too familiar with. And I don't really like it.

It had to happen of course. A person can't go around eating three-course lunches and drinking a bottle of wine a day and not gain weight. Not even me. The only other time I've ever put on weight in my life was when I lived in San Diego for six months. (That was not due to indulgence; it was because of poor-quality, low-flavour food and massive servings.) That time, once I got home and went back to my normal Kiwi diet I went back to normal. So I guess this will happen again with us once we get back home, into our normal routine, do some activity and lay off the booze for a while.

I actually don't mind a little extra roundness in certain places (hips, bum). It creates a certain feminine shape that I quite like. But the belly.... the belly is not me. The belly has got to go.

So we decided it was time to slow the decline. It's baby steps: no more wine with lunch (except in exceptional circumstances) and a bit more exercise is called for. We have actually been visiting the hotel gym here and putting in a bit of time on the machines. We have been doing a bit of active sightseeing - you can see me in my sportive mode here as we biked around Mallorca. And despite the sumptuous buffet on offer at breakfast, I've gone back to a more normal-for-me breakfast of cereal, fruit and yoghurt. It's no great hardship. I was getting sick of pain au chocolat anyway.