Yesterday we discovered that my wife used to be married to a fat man. It might sound strange, but it was as much a shock for her as it was for me.
It all happened quite innocently… a work Dinner Dance offered a rare opportunity to wear my Dinner Suit or, more correctly, one of my Dinner Suits (as I have accumulated several “emergency” suits over the years).
I’ve always felt good in a Dinner Suit. I’ve enjoyed getting dressed up ever since I bought my first one from a Charity Shop to attend my first “Ball” when I was at school. Yes, it is easy for men; we always get to wear the same outfit, no particular thought is required, and we can accumulate accessories over time.
Generally the key pre-requisites have been to (1) remember to get the suit cleaned after particularly heavy / boisterous nights out and (2) make sure the Dinner Suit is in the right location for the Bash (this has been the primary contributor to me owning multiple suits). On top of this, there is the concern of whether the suit will still fit – the irregularity that the Dinner Suit is usually donned means it provides a good commentary on the (usually expanding) waistline.
My latest Dinner Suit was my favourite. A simple, single breasted Ted Baker Suit with a light grey lining. Nothing special, but it was a good fit and I always felt very comfortable in it. I looked after it, and it looked after me.
Organised as always, at around midday on the day of the Dinner Dance, I got out my favourite suit for a last minute readiness check. I knew I had lost some weight but I anticipated a belt or, in the worst case some braces, would be all that was required to make it “fit”.
When I tried it on I was shocked! Louise was shocked! The suit was HUGE! How could it ever have fitted me? It looked absolutely ridiculous!
With growing desperation, I tried on the other suits in the wardrobe… they were all way too big! Even a made-to-measure suit I had made about 5 years ago, when I thought I was fit was way too big. A disaster!
It takes a lot to get me to visit a shop, particularly a clothes shop, but even I had to (reluctantly) admit that an emergency visit to the Menswear Shop was required. Fortunately, thanks to the help of a very understanding Assistant Manager, I found a suit that would meet my immediate need. It’s not quite my old favourite, but I think he’s history.
Now all that’s left is for me to do is to pluck up the courage to go through the rest of my wardrobe and get rid of the clothes that in all probability I’ll never be able to wear again. Even packing some of the clothes away “just in case” is too depressing a thought… that would mean all my hard work has been in vain, and wouldn’t augur well for my future health.