So I just took delivery of twenty clothes hangers.
A couple of years ago, I had to make some dietary changes due to having entered the “age-related food intolerances” era of life. Basically, my genetic heritage says that I am nearly dead, and therefore my body believes I no longer need to digest lactose or gluten properly and should instead be preparing to leave the village and die in a ditch in the wilderness so as not to be a further burden on the community.
(The real hack here was buying a stack of unbreakable bowls that I can just throw leaves and protein and nuts into and stir with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. We refer to these as “the sadness bowls” in our house, as in “yes, I am having a sadness bowl for my lunch again.” These bowls are also for the berries, almonds and honey I have for breakfast.)
(Also worth noting that I made a few further adjustments after reading ULTRA PROCESSED PEOPLE)
Said dietary changes have led to me losing around four inches off my waist over a couple of years, which I wasn’t expecting. This was a good excuse to buy new clothes, as I love clothes. I am, however, bad at throwing clothes out, and there’s a voice in the back of my head that demands Cornish pasties and thinks that one day a perfect gluten intolerance tablet will be invented that will allow me to go face down in a six foot pile of them so I should probably keep the baggy jeans.
Therefore I now own more clothes than I have since my thirties. So many more, in fact, that I’ve had to order a lot of clothes hangars, each one of which will have to hang three garments as I tend to buy clothes as capsules, a few of which capsules have a matching shoe so oh shit I just realised I need a shoe rack too.
Accidental weight loss turns out to be expensive and somehow also space-consuming.
