Let me say before I begin that I am standing on my soap box; I whittled it myself; I am not generally known for my passivity and this is a blog post with an agenda – don’t say I didn’t warn you.
As some of you may know I’ve been refraining from buying any new clothes this year, the reasons for this are three-fold:
- I had too much stuff in my life and I was far to reliant on this stuff to make me happy so I decided I needed to stop filling my life with stuff and fill it with meaning and genuine happiness.
- I think that the disposable or ‘Fast Fashion’ society that we are now living in is bad for the environment.
- The price of clothes has gone, and continues to go, down and down, but the price of producing it is going up, so I had my questions about where this cost was being squeezed and had some nasty suspicions it might be at the expense of the people who make it. And then I watched this:
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This is more of a prospective rather than retrospective blog post. I have gained weight. Just over half a stone. It’s not loads but it’s enough to cancel out some of my jegging choices…as well as some of my older dresses. I blame two things:
- Turning 26.
- Marriage (loving bastard).
Luckily for me I’ve managed, with little to no effort to remain a size 10 from about the last eight years. My mother told me of this evil myth called the metabolism, and in a prophetic, ghost story type way told me that one day it would creep up on me and ruin my life. It turns out that the day I turned 26 this evil myth materialised into reality and now I can no longer do up my trusty denim shorts (one of only two pairs of shorts I own – I live in Wales, any more would be excessive to say the least). Now, when I have put weight on in the past I’ve counteracted the swelling by running every day for two weeks and eating only scrambled eggs for breakfast and lunch, hey presto, a whole stone gone in a fortnight. So when I weighed myself about a month ago and felt a little unpleasant feeling in the pit of my larger than usual stomach as I realised the scales weren’t broken (I’d been trying to convince myself of this for a week) I set off on my scrambled egg mission. For two weeks I was the queen of poached or scrambled eggs, I didn’t even know how to make poached eggs before I started and now I’m epic at it. At the end of this fortnight I weighed myself and was deeply surprised to find that I had PUT ON WEIGHT!
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