It's Not a Garment - It's DESTINY

First of all, what I'm going to tell you, very few people in the world know.  Not because it's this huge ugly secret, but more because it's proof that I am in fact completely barking mad koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs. In fact if I remember right, only two people know.  One of them is the love of my life.  The other is Tootsie. Wokka wokka wokka! Ah, I love the classics.

Anyway, here's the deal: I am a fat man, despite Waffles' protestations to the contrary.  And Waffles, buddy, you've never seen me naked, so I forgive your misconception. And since in the past I have been thinner, I have an entire closet full of clothes that are either too small or too big for me.  I have shirts with neck sizes from 17 to 18.5 inches. I have pants from 36 to 46 inch waists. 

But here's the big bucketful of crazy:  when I'm losing weight, as I am now, I will take an article of clothing that doesn't fit and keep it out, and try it on every odd day or so until it fits me and I can then do a dance of triumph - which, ironically enough, is done in the complete absence of clothing. For the last few weeks, I've been trying on a size 50 sport coat, waiting first for the day that I could button it, then for the day that I could button it without me looking like Curly, then finally the day that I could truly lay claim to the jacket actually fitting.

For all that time, that was my Jacket of Destiny.

I have a Shirt of Destiny too; it's a men's 2x.  They're close to fitting; they pull a little bit when I sit down but they should fit in a couple of weeks. My current Pants of Destiny are 40's; they'll take a little longer to fit, maybe a month or more.  Past experience tells me that once I hit that size, all the low-hanging fruit will have all fallen off, as it were, and the job becomes more difficult.  But I don't want to get too far ahead of myself.

The best thing about Clothes of Destiny isn't the day that they finally fit; it's remembering just how far away from fitting they were when you tried them on the first time.  When I started this little health thing, I tried on a pair of 40 inch pants - not only was I unable to button them but there was a good four inches between button and buttonhole, a width that I couldn't overcome with a winch and six pulleys. Now, even though no rational soul would suggest that the pants actually fit me, I can in fact button them - however ridiculous they look currently - and that's quite an encouraging sign.  Destiny, in fact. My brother Ross's birthday is a month from today; I'll post a picture of me in my current Pants of Destiny then, no matter if they fit me or not.

Because, to paraphrase Shakespeare and Moe Berg, the progress is the thing.