“Remoted” – Day 501 (Friday)

Seeing “Day 501” this morning led directly to me thinking about the classic Levi’s 501 button fly jeans and an old commercial with a blues singer singing about “The 501 Blues.” The earworm stuck with me all day and sent me down a memory trail beginning with how much I loved the look of Levi’s in high school and college, especially on a guy. There was a stretch of time where I wanted Levi’s for myself, but the thighs were usually too tight and the waist was usually too big. For years, I envied the girls who could wear Levi’s. My shape, especially after packing on the notorious "Freshman 10" pound weight gain, was better suited to Wrangler jeans which were fine for rodeo cowboys but less cool for college cool-kid wannabes.

The funniest part of my freshman 10 is that it started immediately after graduating high school and I didn’t even go away to school. I lived at home with my family and walked to my classes at Fitchburg State just like I had walked to my classes at Fitchburg High. I had also quit my high school job right after graduation (another story for another day), stopped dancing ballet (still don’t know why), and because the drinking age was 18 and Happy Hours were allowed in Massachusetts back then, it was easy to invest heavily in drinking. Freshman year, I ironed Mom's work clothes each week for money which was then exchanged for cheap beers in bars and steak and cheese subs at the late-night local grilled meat truck.

Fought the "Freshman 10"
with iceberg lettuce.

In the early college years, there was frustration at my clothes not fitting anymore and needing larger sizes and then a guy I liked told me I had “a pretty face but could lose about five pounds.” That triggered a stretch of time dominated by a strict diet heavy on iceberg lettuce based salads, black coffee, diet soda, and ice water. Every morsel consumed was recorded. The pocket calorie counter was memorized and calorie counts tossed out at random in conversations. There were diet pills and exercises in my room every night before bed.

Weight loss was achieved and soon my Wranglers were too big. I borrowed a pair of my brother’s Levi’s, which miraculously fit. Sort of. The waist was still too big, but I could get my legs into them, and with Candie's high heels the 36-inch inseam worked. Soon, other styles and brands of jeans came onto my radar and my lust for Levi’s was replaced by that for jeans bearing labels by Calvin Klein, Zena, and Chic.

Today’s earworm and the denim clad memories made me a little blue remembering that chapter of life. It was exciting and stressful and awash in beer. The dalliance with eating disorders played out in multiple chapters into my 30s. Counting calories equaled control, at least in that one area of life.