Yesterday went shopping for a pair of jeans, not out of fancy but out of sheer need. This is an activity which I dread and which has invariably taken the form of a habitual paradox. The reason behind the paradox is that, though, buying new clothes always has its undeniable pleasure but then while trying out and selecting the jeans I keep wondering about the amount of margin I should leave for the extra fats I may pile up in future, which is so very likely. In the matter of weights I just cannot take my body behavior for granted.
What prompted me to go in search of that perfect fitting pair of jeans is my increased/increasing waist line. I had discovered the need for another new pair when the inevitable happened, the waist button and its hole stubbornly refused to meet and conjoin. No matter how much I coaxed them to do so, by sucking in my bulging stomach and giving them all the room possible, they just wouldn’t. So it was time for me to face the truth, which was staring at my face with evidence, that I had gained sufficient fat to be rejected by my favorite pair of jeans.
This planted the seed of determination to melt the fat away by exercising. Incentive was of course getting back into my jeans and also many additional benefits. But back of my mind, knowing myself, the doubt had also taken up residence that this new found purpose for exercising may be short lived. And my doubt over powered my determination and came out victorious. I started exercising around 6 months later from my day of discovery of the need. And was unable to continue with the regime because the carrot (incentive) dangling in front of me did not look fresh and enticing enough any longer (so this meant it needed rejuvenation).
Happily defeated, for the time being, yesterday I went shopping for jeans. This absolutely doesn’t mean that I have given up on my old pair; I am as hopeful as always and believe in miracles. And as expected I had to face and go along with my life’s habitual paradox, which I have mentioned in the beginning. It sure takes a toll on my decision taking capability. In the end I settled for the most expensive and snug fitting pair of jeans. I was so enticed by the look and feel of those jeans, which made me feel that they were meant for me and no other, that I had no choice but to let caution to the winds. Thus a woman’s vanity, fueled by her husband's admiration, won this round.
But gradually the shopper’s adrenaline rush ended and I was back to reality and that’s when the “inability to get into my jeans” phobia started plaguing me. So the only defense I could call upon was my old buddy “exercise regime”, by virtue of which the chain of events once more kicked off, the end result of which I am so very much familiar with. Thus the wheel of time keeps going!
What prompted me to go in search of that perfect fitting pair of jeans is my increased/increasing waist line. I had discovered the need for another new pair when the inevitable happened, the waist button and its hole stubbornly refused to meet and conjoin. No matter how much I coaxed them to do so, by sucking in my bulging stomach and giving them all the room possible, they just wouldn’t. So it was time for me to face the truth, which was staring at my face with evidence, that I had gained sufficient fat to be rejected by my favorite pair of jeans.
This planted the seed of determination to melt the fat away by exercising. Incentive was of course getting back into my jeans and also many additional benefits. But back of my mind, knowing myself, the doubt had also taken up residence that this new found purpose for exercising may be short lived. And my doubt over powered my determination and came out victorious. I started exercising around 6 months later from my day of discovery of the need. And was unable to continue with the regime because the carrot (incentive) dangling in front of me did not look fresh and enticing enough any longer (so this meant it needed rejuvenation).
Happily defeated, for the time being, yesterday I went shopping for jeans. This absolutely doesn’t mean that I have given up on my old pair; I am as hopeful as always and believe in miracles. And as expected I had to face and go along with my life’s habitual paradox, which I have mentioned in the beginning. It sure takes a toll on my decision taking capability. In the end I settled for the most expensive and snug fitting pair of jeans. I was so enticed by the look and feel of those jeans, which made me feel that they were meant for me and no other, that I had no choice but to let caution to the winds. Thus a woman’s vanity, fueled by her husband's admiration, won this round.
But gradually the shopper’s adrenaline rush ended and I was back to reality and that’s when the “inability to get into my jeans” phobia started plaguing me. So the only defense I could call upon was my old buddy “exercise regime”, by virtue of which the chain of events once more kicked off, the end result of which I am so very much familiar with. Thus the wheel of time keeps going!
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