Friday, March 21, 2014

That Time I Accidentally Mooned all the Men in the Temple

Losing weight is hard.  I'm not talking about the exercise you have to do every day, or the fact that you have to watch what you eat.  Those are hard, but they've been a part of my life for over a year now.  I'm used to them, and I've learned pretty well when I need to be hardcore about it and when I need to let myself splurge.

No, what I'm talking about is a danger much more sinister.  Losing weight puts you in a position where you have 2 choices, neither of which is something any sane person would want to go through.  You see, when you lose weight your body shape tends to be in constant flux.  Clothes that fit you a few months ago will suddenly no longer fit.

These are the 2 choices you are presented with that I mentioned above:

The first is a true terror.  Something I try to never ever do.  Go shopping for clothes.  Are you with me?  What person would ever choose to do this?  If you have a constant, unchanging size, this is a pretty simple process.  You go online, find something with the correct number on it, buy it and receive a box a few days later.  It's painless and simple.  (This process only works for males.  From what I hear, sizes are relatively meaningless in the female world.)

But if you don't really know your size or what fits, because it has changed since a month ago, this is a horrible experience.  You have to wander around the store for a while, looking at prices and thinking about how you have perfectly good clothes at home, and this money should go toward buying something awesome.  Then you have to select something that you can stomach spending money on.  Then you have to go into a dressing room guarded by a clothes folding sentinel, feel really awkward taking off your clothes in a store, put on the item you picked, realize it doesn't fit and then repeat the process until you either find something that you're willing to live with, or you claw your own eyes out in frustration.  (The two outcomes have about an equal chance of happening.)

As terrible as the first option is, it turns out that delaying the first option leads to the inevitable second option.  The first option may be terrible, but at least you can choose when it happens and you can prepare for it.  The second option comes when you least expect it.  Of course, the second option is to participate in public nudity.  I've already told you about the time the wind blew my clothes off.  That was a relatively painless form of public nudity.  I was outside, so it was technically public, but no one was outside with me.  Anyone that saw me was just peeking out a window and we don't have to look each other in the eye and ever acknowledge that it happened.

This one was a little more public.

I'll start at the beginning.  I went to the temple with some family members.  I always wear a suit to the temple, and then I change into my white clothes in the dressing room.  I ran into my good friend Cameron, who works at the temple, as I was walking in.  We chatted for a few moments.  He mentioned that my suit is beginning to look ginormous on me.  (My suit is one of the items I haven't replaced.  I get cranky about spending 10 bucks on a pair of shorts.  Do you think I want to spend $300 on a suit?)  I casually mentioned that I was a little worried about my white pants.  The last time I had been to the temple was a month earlier, and I had noticed that my pants were starting to get really loose.  I had meant to get a belt before it got to be a problem, but had not yet done so.

"You know you can rent clothes, right?  I'll even give you the money if you're worried about that."

I should have listened to Cameron, that wise old sage.  I wasn't worried about the money.  It's like 75 cents.  I just figured I had only lost a pound since last month.  It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

Fast forward to the actual temple session.  There are portions of the ceremony where you need to stand up.  During one of these times, I felt a little breezy in the back.  I reached back to pull up my pants, thinking they were riding a little low, and that's when I realized the terrible truth.  It was my underwear that was riding a little low.  My pants were no longer a part of the picture.  Luckily, during this part of the ceremony, I was surrounded by men.  Not that men want to see my backside any more than women, but it seems slightly less embarrassing.

The title of this post is a little misleading.  I didn't actually moon anyone, because I still had under garments covering the essential pieces (though they were definitely riding low, and I won't claim that nothing was revealed) but my pants were definitely not contributing to keeping anything covered.

I totally looked like those punk kids who can't keep their clothes on.  That would be embarrassing anytime, but the temple makes it a special kind of embarrassing.
There is one shining light that makes this whole thing bearable.  I've been a little discouraged that I've only lost like 2 pounds over the past few months.  But, at least this shows that the change in my body shape is still fairly dramatic.

P.S. I bought a white belt on Amazon the moment I got home.  I didn't even have to go to a store.  Crisis averted.


  1. Jeff, I have a concern. Your blog is starting to include a lot of nudity. I generally don't read blogs that have nudity. Just FYI.

    1. Sorry about the nudity. My public life has more nudity than I would prefer and it bleeds into my blog.

  2. Remember your blog post about your temple pants being too small? And now they are falling off. I think you need some elastic temple pants. Problem solved!

    1. Ya, I do remember that. I actually thought about linking to that in this post, but I decided not to. It's hard to believe that the same pants that I could barely get on before are now falling off.

  3. Love it. It reminds me of this (dragging is the new sagging):

  4. I wonder what a temple worker would say if a man wore a white dress or muumuu to the temple? That would solve it until your down to your goal weight.

  5. Clothes shopping is the worst, for sure. Maybe you should explore other options, like leggings or kilts.

  6. A kilt would be awesome. Brilliant!


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