Growing down

My father’s pushing 80 but I’m the one with the sorrier wardrobe. Ever sartorially challenged, I rely on friends to tell me what to wear, from the cut of my pants down to the color shoes to go with it. That’s during the rare times we’re together. “Shall I buy you some shirts?” my sister asks all the way from California. I tell her not to bother: I’m all kinds of small. Bench gets me right, but at 40+ I can only be so preppy. Levi’s and Giordano leave me a scarecrow. At Springfield I’m an XXS1 — if they have any in stock.

“Have you got anything smaller?” is my standard inquiry. Clerks cluck their tongues — whether out of pity or for the missed sales opportunity, I’m never sure. Sometimes I luck out — in the children’s frickin’ section. It’s never not fraught with compromise. “I am not wearing girl pants!” I protest. My best friend tries to mollify me. “Oh, come on, it’s not that obvious. The fit’s perfect!” Who knows when or where I’ll come across size-26 jeans again? I get two.

Back at home I pry out the rhinestones that liberally stud the pockets, leaving dark spots of dried glue on the faded fabric. I have always been comfortable, if not with my body in general, then at least with my size. It does not bother me that I’m short or skinny. But I’m curious: Are there so few us to make up a viable market? I resent clothing manufacturers who seem to ignore the fact that not all children were raised on Chinese growth balls or Cherifer PGM. Do I not have money to pay? Does my heart not bleed to find that nice Zara shirt just a tad too loose? Don’t I deserve to wear a pair of Crocs even if they’re the ugliest things ever?

Small to start with, with the onset of age and diabetes, I’m getting even smaller. I’m reminded of Lily Tomlin in The Incredible Shrinking Woman (1981 — the very first title we owned on the Betamax format), in which her character is literally reduced to wearing clothes from her daughter’s Barbie collection. Even though Rotten Tomatoes rates it a whopping 0%, I seem to recall the movie was quite funny. Back then I had assumed that I would eventually grow up and out. It’s only now that I appreciate the indignity of out-shrinking my already wee-size wardrobe. I entertain the same thought I had looking in on my Tita Bebe in her coffin, aghast at how small she had become in death. Will I be buried in child’s clothing? At least I’ll be past caring by then.

You’ve read this far, so I assume you’re not here merely for the pictures. I stand by my recipes. Below is one for donut (actually cronut) pudding, which is truly delicious. And positively fattening, if only I have the verve (and doctor’s permission) to eat more of it. “Look at you,” Ma says. “You look older than your father.” She exaggerates, as is her wont, but she has a point. Pa walks each day — if not outside, then at least on the treadmill (often both). He neither smokes nor drinks. And his clothes would look good on me if only they came in my size. Ma buys them for him.

For me she gets a cast-iron Dutch oven. If I use the thing often enough, it just might put some definition into my arm muscles (it weighs almost six kilos — that of a standard barbell). Of course, it could just as likely twist my already weak working hand (my right arm is a full inch shorter than my left, the result of an accident when I was about 12). I know: my body is a tale of woe. I’m not complaining. Just give me adult clothes that fit. Is that really too much to ask?

Cappuccino Cronut Pudding

I don’t drink coffee, but I love anything flavored with it. Chocolate milk also works well; this recipe is very forgiving, so let your imagination run wild. If using regular sweet/glazed donuts, you might want to lessen the sugar. You can also put in any stale bread or cake.

• cronuts (or donuts), cut into quarters
• 1½ cup milk
• 2 eggs, beaten
• ½ cup sugar
• ½ cup brewed cappuccino (or 1 sachet instant mix + ½ cup milk)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 tablespoons rum (optional)

For the frosting:
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and at room temp
• milk
• ¼ cup confectioner’s sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. In a bowl, combine milk, eggs, sugar, cappuccino, vanilla, and rum (if using). Mix well.
3. Arrange cronut/donut pieces snugly in a baking dish in a single layer, Ladle the coffee mixture over the bread to soak them. Arrange another layer over that and soak those as well. Do this until baking dish is full. Pour any remaining mixture in until halfway from the lip. Do not overfill.
4. Bake pudding for 45 to 50 minutes or until it has risen and set and the top is golden brown. Remove from the oven and let rest for 10 minutes. It will deflate as it cools down.
5. For the frosting, combine melted butter with 2 tablespoons of milk, then add confectioner’s sugar. Keep mixing until the mixture is free of lumps. Add more milk as needed, a teaspoon at a time, for it to reach a spreadable consistency. Drizzle over the warm pudding when serving.