Dear Miss Eliza: When Your Belt Just Won't Hold It
Dear Miss Eliza,I’m in the middle of a diet that’s been working well enough to take 1.75 inches off my midsection. As pleased as I am with this result, it’s left me in a jam. You see, I’m half way between two notches in my belts now. And I don’t want to go out and buy new ones because I have every intention of losing more weight, and then my old belts will fit again. Any suggestions?
Just a little crack
Dear Just,
This is a commonly traveled query that you have posed here. Let me tell you a story about another such sojourner. His name was Ben.
Well, once upon a time when Ben was in middle school, he was picked on every day because he was, as his teacher put it, chubby. Of course, he was called much worse things by the nincompoop children who picked on him, but that’s not the point. Now Ben never told his mother about the abuse, but she found out during a parent teacher conference, and put Ben on a diet. Soon he was suffering from your exact malady, only he was unfortunate enough to still be wearing briefs, and the tauntings grew worse.
Summer swallowed that school year and Ben retreated with his new nickname "briefboy" ringing in his brain. And wondering what on earth he should do about it. And then he sat down across from his father one morning and slipped on some orange juice his mother had spilled. He grabbed on to the first thing he could touch, his father’s tie. I’ll spare you the messy details, suffice it to say that the garish pattern on the tie was familiar, but not immediately recognizable. Until his next trip to the department store.
Where he found… that pattern… on a pair of men’s underwear. And it wasn’t a pair of briefs. And then he decided, what if I capitalize on my weakness?
He went back to school in the fall. It was high school now, and the stakes were longer, pointier and therefore deadlier. He had taken a gamble. Would it pay off? When he left the house that morning, he received a pained look from his mother, and his little sister had choked on her rice krispies. His tension mounted.
There was silence in the hallway as the sea of faces flooded with blank stares. One boy stepped in front of him, a smirk on his face. Ben could see the retort working its way out the vocal chords, he beat it with his own one liner.
"You must be wondering what the deal is. See, I got this new job this summer as an underwear model. They’re paying me the big bucks to show off the latest fashions in boxer-ware. You like?"
And you know how it turned out. The boxers came out of the closet and a movement was born.
Now I don’t know if you want to go with the boxer root, but I think it’s time we got a look at some new oh-my-pants-are-falling-down fashion. I leave it in your capable waistline. Good luck.
Miss Eliza
Dear Readers,
Are you ever in the middle of your shower, lathering up and humming to yourself only to stop and ask yourself some ridiculous question? Why not take note of those questions, and pass them along to me, where they can be safely (and entertainingly) disposed of? I have much experience with question-care, and I’ll even do it for you pro-bono. Just stick your question in my comments section, or pop it into an e-mail with selizawalden@yahoo.com in the To: space. And the best part is, you don’t even need a lawyer.
Miss Eliza
posted by Sarah Eliza @ 4:11 PM
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