The waist test

One of my main sources of pride during Covid — other than clapping for doctors every night, of course — was that I didn’t stop working out. Actually, I did more of it: the gym was shut down, so I bought myself dumbbells (making one delivery guy very happy) and upped my reps. It actually got to a point when I was out of control: I remember doing 80 push ups one day, hurting my back towards the end — and still finishing my set. At least that’s my story.

There is one thing I cut down, though: cardio. No place for a treadmill in the living room. And, when things opened up and my wife started running outside again, there was always a good reason why I couldn’t. All three of my knees acted out a lot at the time. The point is: I’ve never lifted more weights than I do now, but running after my daughter is proving difficult.

There is a consequence to that: it’s noticeably harder to fit in my jeans. Or, rather, I only wear the same couple of pairs that are just a little wider. And then forget that I’m basically cheating: not looking at the mirror helps. Earlier this week, I was going to a work event and the pair of jeans I had been wearing for the past 2 weeks as I worked from home was so wrinkly I decided to take a fresh pair out. Might as well. I probably hadn’t worn the pair since last summer: putting them on proved a little difficult, but I managed. Although my movements were more limited thereafter.

Then came time to put a shirt on — I obviously wear T-shirts, only the face really shows on Teams anyway. The last couple of shirts I bought were pretty tight fitting because I’m starting to look like that caricature of a 40-something who still wants to look cool even though he actually never did. It was tight when I bought it — problematically so now. And so I spend a couple of days standing tighter than I have in months. Still looking like I was wearing clothes that shrunk in the drier.

After that, I took a clear decision: things just had to change. I bought myself stretch jeans.