“Lightening Up With Jan”

Resident Jan Marshall is a Humorologist, award-winning author, and humor columnist for adults and aspirational books for children.

REVOLT OF MY SHMATTEHS (CLOTHING)

By Jan Marshall

HELP!
I fear I am going mad. 
 As I was getting ready to celebrate Rosh Hashanah and the New Year by picking out a spiffy outfit, I learned that the fashion world is now making all styles smaller than usual.

The washing machine seems to be shrinking everything else — even the items I’ve never washed.

I hear footsteps in my bedroom. My clothes want to go back in the closet — not simply because I stretch them to distraction.

They whisper about my fickleness, and they take it personally.

They are not wrong when they talk about me forgetting all about them whenever I purchase something new that does not cut off circulation.

It is true, I can love my outfit and not be seen without it for weeks; but alas, as soon as another catches my fancy and fits my fanny, the others no longer exists in my memory.

Hello, My name is Jan and I am A CLOTHES SLUT.

At this moment, a sailor outfit wants out. It claims white is not my color and it is quite militant about that. I have pleaded and cajoled but I know the rage it is experiencing is really from neglect. Aside from the fact that I just bought a big-boy combat shirt at an army surplus store and I am blinded by love for this khaki cookie, the sailor blouse is a size 6. I have not been a size 6, well, since I was six!  
 
I will loan it to my petite friend as a foster outfit — to live with her until I am able to use kale as my primary food source.

There is also noisy hostility coming from my other neglected clothes. The rustling is deafening.

In addition, my apparel falls off the hangers or plays hide and seek when I am in a hurry.

Fortunately, I am now seeing a clothing counselor. 
Dr. Plink, the shrink, (why they are called that I’ll never know since I am the same size since I began therapy) suggested I go on a journey to find myself. I packed my shirt and left a note for the remaining clothes.

I was on my way to me-land.

Just a footnote here that you may already know. Television makes us appear 10 pounds heavier. I have three. You do the math!
 Thirty pounds of an optical illusion of fake fat.

Still, I hopped a train for Katemoss Mountain to find answers … and maybe a couple of Mandelbrot that pretends to be Biscotti in some places.

So, goodbye for now pantyhose.

We have been estranged for years since your constant complaining, begging for mercy over the one-size-fits-all label, and jealousy because I started going commando.

All caused by your ever present stretchy down-to-my-knees-baggy crotch.

Someday I shall return as a lovely bikini babe when swimwear is designed for XXXL.

So friends, in the future I shall always remember and hope you do too, what Louis Prima used to sing

🎶The bigger the figure the more there is …🎶