I love belts, and often add them to my outfits (around the waist, over a dress, on top of a peplum hem). I also love the look of a skinny belt as a subtle accessory adding some color to an otherwise monotone ensemble. Today I threw a svelte leopard belt over my navy top, and was very pleaded with the result. I then met a friend for lunch near my office, and made a break from my usual Lean Cuisine midday meal in favor of a commercially distributed salad with bread and full-fat dressing. I felt fine afterwards, not enormously full, but satisfied.
Two more hours of sitting at my desk, a few sips of water, and the afternoon haze set in. Suddenly lunch occupied every ounce of room in my midsection, and my formerly cute skinny belt was now like a taught string on a ham hock, sucking in the oozing flesh. I had to lose it immediately. Hiding in the privacy of my own office, I unbuckled the belt and threw it into my bag like a lead iron. Some looks are better left for days spent standing up, not eating, and not breathing that much either.
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