Temptation, Thy Name is Cheesecake

Yesterday, I did something I haven't done in years.  In fact, I can landmark when I did it last. There was a Woolworth's Five and Ten in Ansley Mall. That's how long ago it was. And I did it this time because of my friend Kay.

Over one of our horrendous, cholesteral-laden breakfasts, I lamented that I was planning on trying on a few of last winter's clothing items, and I wished there were a way to save some favorites without expensive alterations. I was thinking particularly of a black and white tweed jacket.

"Simple," Kay said. "Just slap a belt on it. You put a black belt on that sucker, and it'll be brand new."

Hmmmm, I thought. A belt. They show this all the time in the fashion mags. It might even give it a little peplum effect around the hips. Peplums are in this fall. I was obviously not thinking clearly, since  the models in the magazines are about twelve years old and as big around as my finger. Of course they can well afford that fanny ruffle. They haven't got fannies, for God sake.

So that is how I found myself standing in front of the belts at my local Target. Since I bought my last belt at Woolworth's, not a lot has changed in the belt world, as far as I can tell. They are still generally made for women with waists. Losing weight or not, a waist is not really in my future. It wasn't in my past, either, but I didn't let that deter me from making the purchase.

I picked out a black belt with many grommet options which would let me strap myself into the boxy Chanel-esque jacket  so it would look a bit less like a cozy tent for a family of four. Instead it looked as if I had decided to strap closed a piece of luggage with a broken clasp that I just happened to be wearing. Not the effect I hoped for.

But I haven't returned the belt.  Maybe I'll put it over that white "big shirt." It looks like a lab coat, now, with snappy pleats down the front. At least a belt, any belt, is something of a triumph. I am advancing into core exercises now. In case you aren't up on fitness lingo, "core"is pretty much the same thing as "gut."I am working on having less core, although that isn't how they put it in the fitness world. I am "toning" my "core," presumably so I can tie my sneakers without needing oxygen.

Tonight I lifted weights while I watched Masterpiece Theater.  I deeply wanted a cup of coffee and a slice of cheesecake with a swirl of strawberry chocolate ganache as the label so cruelly taunts. And curses on the person who brought it to my dining table and refused to take it home, knowing full well I couldn't put its beautiful swirls down the disposal. There is a ring of hell especially mentioned by Dante for just such a sin. This Pilgrim is making progress, and I wasn't an English major for nothing.