In the song Brick House by The Commodores, a mythical woman is described whose measurements are 36-24-36. The song proclaims that set of measurements as a winning hand. Apparently, that is what we, guys, are looking for in a woman, but honestly it sounds like a lot of pressure to me. I am not even sure that combination of measurements is possible except for Barbie and she is made of plastic.
Fortunately, guys do not have a similar set of measurements to live up to. The closest we come to it may be height, where 6 feet seems to be a minimum standard of manliness, but most of us have no control over our height unless we are willing to wear platform shoes.
Happily, one of my measurements recently changed. For years, I have been wearing size 38 waist pants. As mentioned in my post, The Maginot Line, I was determined to never wear a size 40 waist even if it meant stuffing myself into a 38 from time to time. As I have lost weight, all of my pants have grown baggy, primarily in the legs and butt, but some also in the waist. Yesterday was my birthday, I turned 46. For the occasion, my wife bought me a pair of khakis with a size 36 waist. I must say that though I was grateful for the gift and her sentiment, I approached trying them on with some trepidation, like Charlie Brown approaching the football. You see, over these years of wearing a size 38, which I hated, from time to time I would try on pants with a smaller waist, hoping against hope that they would fit. Each time, I would have to admit defeat and suffer the shame and humiliation that came along with it, even if it was in the privacy of a dressing room.
So on Saturday, I felt nervous as I pulled the pants on over my legs and hips. With determination I grabbed the two sides and pulled towards the middle. Then miracle of miracle, the button went through the button hole AND I could still breathe. I zipped them up, wiggled myself about and my wife actually pronounced them to be a little baggy. I may never take them off again. I realize that 36 is part of the mythical sequence of 36-24-36. Okay, maybe the waist was not meant to be 36 in that set of numbers, but either way, I feel like a brickhouse!
Consumption:
Cornflakes and Bran Chex cereal with skim milk
Four slices of cheddar cheese and 5 ritz crackers
A can of tuna with mayo and olives
Bowtie pasta with olives and peanuts
Apple
Red grapes
Breaded chicken breast cooked in olive oi
Side salad
2 pieces of corn on the cob
Glass of milk
Exercise:
1 hour of yoga
Fortunately, guys do not have a similar set of measurements to live up to. The closest we come to it may be height, where 6 feet seems to be a minimum standard of manliness, but most of us have no control over our height unless we are willing to wear platform shoes.
Happily, one of my measurements recently changed. For years, I have been wearing size 38 waist pants. As mentioned in my post, The Maginot Line, I was determined to never wear a size 40 waist even if it meant stuffing myself into a 38 from time to time. As I have lost weight, all of my pants have grown baggy, primarily in the legs and butt, but some also in the waist. Yesterday was my birthday, I turned 46. For the occasion, my wife bought me a pair of khakis with a size 36 waist. I must say that though I was grateful for the gift and her sentiment, I approached trying them on with some trepidation, like Charlie Brown approaching the football. You see, over these years of wearing a size 38, which I hated, from time to time I would try on pants with a smaller waist, hoping against hope that they would fit. Each time, I would have to admit defeat and suffer the shame and humiliation that came along with it, even if it was in the privacy of a dressing room.
So on Saturday, I felt nervous as I pulled the pants on over my legs and hips. With determination I grabbed the two sides and pulled towards the middle. Then miracle of miracle, the button went through the button hole AND I could still breathe. I zipped them up, wiggled myself about and my wife actually pronounced them to be a little baggy. I may never take them off again. I realize that 36 is part of the mythical sequence of 36-24-36. Okay, maybe the waist was not meant to be 36 in that set of numbers, but either way, I feel like a brickhouse!
Consumption:
Cornflakes and Bran Chex cereal with skim milk
Four slices of cheddar cheese and 5 ritz crackers
A can of tuna with mayo and olives
Bowtie pasta with olives and peanuts
Apple
Red grapes
Breaded chicken breast cooked in olive oi
Side salad
2 pieces of corn on the cob
Glass of milk
Exercise:
1 hour of yoga
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