Long before I started dieting, I monitored my weight by my clothing; more specifically how my clothing fit (or didn’t).

About a month ago, I had to throw away several pairs of jeans because they all had the same problem — the cloth in the inner thigh area had worn through so much that holes had started to form. For some of the jeans, it was just a small hole barely visible. On others, it was a gaping hole.

As a result, I inspected every pair of jeans I owned and several other pants as well. Almost all of them showed signs of wear in the inner thigh area from the continual rubbing of my thighs as I move throughout my day. Everything else about the jeans were in like-new condition, but the thigh areas were worn thin. I was forced to throw away almost every pair of jeans I owned.

The only pants that didn’t show wear in the thigh area were my fat pants — a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans that I had purchased at a deep discount. Even when I purchased the pants, they were a little big on me, but I couldn’t pass up the deal. Plus, they weren’t that big. They were my size but the “tall” version, which meant the longer than normal legs fit me differently than most of my jeans. At 5’7″, I’m at the lower end of the “tall” range.

The first time I wore the jeans, my husband commented on them. He didn’t like them because they made my butt look larger than it really is. The loose fit and poor butt display made these jeans become my work jeans. When I had to do something that required a lot of lower body movement, I would wear these jeans. They worked well while snowmobiling, any major cleaning and home improvement projects.

So many times I went to my dresser drawer and pulled out pants that no longer fit me, but these jeans always went on. They were my fall-back pair when nothing else was available. If I had a lazy day of hanging out at home, I pulled on these jeans. The loose fit may not have showcased my butt very well, but they were comfortable to wear. I never had to tug them up to cover my butt crack or worry about straining the seams if I bent down to pick something up off the floor.

Every time I wore the jeans, my husband mentioned how poorly they displayed my rear end. He didn’t like them at all, but I continued to wear them.

They were the jeans I grabbed when nothing else wanted to fit. These were the jeans I could pull on no matter how I felt or how bloated and fat I was that day.

Yesterday, I threw away my fat jeans.

It was a big move for me, and I wasn’t sure at first that I should do it. After throwing away so many pants last month, my clothing options are limited as it is. It is not an easy decision to toss a pair of jeans that are in good condition.

I wore the jeans yesterday. It was a hanging around the house day, and I pulled the jeans on because it didn’t matter what I looked like. The jeans, however, are now too big.

My hips have always been bigger than my waist by several inches. It means most of my pants are tight in the hip area and have a small gap at my waist. But yesterday, my fat pants were just too big. The waist band’s gap was huge. I could pull on the outer thigh area and pull the pants off despite them being fastened. It involved a little bit of a single hip wiggle to the right when the pants began to go over my larger hips, but it could be done without a lot of effort.

According to the scale, my weight loss effort is only 25 percent complete, but throwing away my fat pants is a major deal. So much so that I decided to take a photo to document my achievement to date:

According to the tag on the jeans, they are a size 20 and “classic fit.” I don’t see anything to indicate they were “tall” although there is a “inseam-r” on the label, but I have no idea what that means.
Yesterday, while wearing my fat pants, I went to a local store and tried on various pants. For the last six months, I have been wearing a size 20 jeans, but that is misleading. I had refused to buy jeans larger than a size 20, but at times, I couldn’t make a size 20 fit and size 22, after being used to my tight-fitting size 20, felt huge the few times I tried them on. I usually opted for the smaller, tighter size, but it was something I had to decide on a case by case basis.

Yesterday, in the dressing room, getting a full-length view of me in my fat pants is when I really decided it was time to get rid of them. I never want to fit into them again, and it is clear they no longer fit. It was time to let them go.

My results in the dressing room were mixed. I could fit into some size 18 jeans but not all. The cut and brand played a major part in the deciding factor. If the fit was relaxed or classic, size 18 fits. Anything else is iffy.

One thing I learned in the dressing room yesterday — pay close attention to the labels. I mistakenly picked up a pair of size 18 “misses” jeans, and I didn’t realize it until I went to try them on. I am not a “misses” by any means. I also need to avoid “juniors” labels. It just isn’t good for the ego.

Last night my husband asked me a couple of times where I had been yesterday afternoon. I told him I was shopping, but I didn’t try to explain why my shopping trip took so long despite bringing home just a few items. It’s hard to explain that I was size-shopping, which is sort of like window-shopping. There is no intent to actually buy anything, but you have to know where you stand in the changing world of women’s sizes.