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JAN 1, 2006
ON BELTS AND GUTS
In 2006, I resolve to wear a belt less frequently.
Not much of a resolution, I know, but one that will surely benefit my
health, if not my status as a fashion plate. Belts may be an
essential accessory for the style-conscious cognoscenti, an element
that adds a bit of panache to an otherwise workaday outfit, a necessity
for flash more than function. But for me, they are pernicious
little straps-o-pain that I would happily do without. Like ties
and waxed shoelaces, though marginally less absurd, they are necessary
evils of life in the American Office.
Ties constrain the windpipe; belts constrain the gut. Granted,
there are many Americans who, not to be too mean, could benefit from
anything that inhibits the ability to talk or eat. There are also
those of us, however, who have surly gastrointestinal tracts and for
whom the imposition of belts constitutes cruel and unusual
punishment.
For the Crohn’s-afflicted, the evils of belts are various.
First, they exacerbate the cramping, discomfort, distention and general
grumblings of the gut. Belts, after all, are tightening devices –
that’s the whole point (more than the fashion thing), to prevent
I-See-London-I-See-France occasions or, worse, inadvertent moonings of
innocent bystanders. But when you have a colon that swells and
heaves and aches with the slightest provocation, a belt is a catalyst
for immense discomfort. You might as well wear a boa constrictor
around your waist. A snake, at least, would kill you quickly,
rather than making you endure the slow suffering of a belt, a device
which, after all, is made of the same materials – metal and leather –
as medieval torture devices.
Things might not be so bad – so painful, so maddening – if belts were
more readily adjustable. In my experience, though, the sizing of
most belts runs from “way too loose and not at all belt-like” to
“colon-compacting tight,” and the middle ground is always between
holes. Yes, I am aware that I could get an awl and make a new
hole. Given my history with tools, power or not, and my level of
coordination, I would likely puncture my furniture and myself as well,
though I suppose if those holes ended up in the right places, I could
try to gain fame and fortune by showing off my stigmata. Alas, I
don’t think that belts with off-center, hand-forged holes, not to
mention blood stains, fit within the realm of “business casual.”
I am also aware that there are belts that are easily adjustable and can
be made to precisely fit any circumference. One year, when my
sister asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I requested just such an
item. She complied, and on Christmas morning I received two
lovely straps of woven nylon, fully adjustable and with a lovely black
plastic buckle in the middle. They were, she later confessed,
luggage straps. Again, I don’t think this qualifies as “business
casual.”
And so I stick with the standard black-leather-with-silver-buckle
contrivance that is elegant and timeless and frickin’ obnoxious.
The second, and sometimes greater, problem with belts is that they are
inherently difficult to unbuckle (aside from the luggage-strap ones, of
course). First they squeeze you ’til you burst, then they force
you to desperately hold back the bursting – easier said than done when
you have Crohn’s – until you yank yourself free from their
confines. Even if you have studied Houdini’s methods for escaping
from constraints and trained your muscles to move precisely and
efficiently as you go through the motions of unbuckling, there is
always the danger that those additional split seconds of gut-in-pants
will be the difference between hitting the intended target and needing
new trousers.
And, course, the more closer you are to the bursting point, the more
difficult your belt will be to unbuckle, and the more desperate
fumbling and depraved cursing will occur as you race to get everything
undone and pushed down to your ankles before the shit hits the fan, or
at least the pants.
Finally, belts offer a depressing reminder of the tumultuous nature of
life with Crohn’s. Specifically, they offer a clear and precise
guide to the size of the belly, and therefore the state of the
gut. Those with Crohn’s rarely have to worry too much about
becoming obese (which is why I again recommend the Revolutionary™
New Milkshake and
Doughnut Diet), but weight fluctuations are a genuine
concern. Skinniness is a sign of sickness, and the belt becomes a
measure of each. When the going gets rough and the myriad
symptoms of Crohn’s flare up, the increasing tightness of the belt
serves as an all-too-obvious reminder that your health is in
decline. And the belt itself, well, it ain’t easing the
pain.
In 2006, therefore, I resolve to wear more sweaters (which obscure the
top of the pants and the lack of belt) and to purchase
suspenders.
PS – I had champagne on
New Year’s Eve. It was excellent.
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