I couldn't hold out. None of my pants, after almost four months in Italy, fit me anymore. Not even the new clothes I just bought last month (when I'd already outgrown my "Second Month in Italy" pants) fit me anymore. I can't afford to buy a new wardrobe every few weeks, and I am aware that soon I will be in India, where the pounds will just melt away, but still—I cannot walk in these pants anymore. I can't stand it.
我撑不下去。在意大利待了将近四个月后，我的长裤再也没有一条合身，甚至上个月才买的新衣服（因为我已穿不下意大利第二个月的长裤）也不再合身。我没能力每隔几个星期买一整套新衣，而且我很清楚过不久将去印度，体重即将溶解，但尽管如此——我已没办法穿这些长裤走路。我撑不住。

Which all makes sense, given that I recently stepped on a scale in a fancy Italian hotel and learned that I have gained twenty-three pounds in my four months of Italy—a truly admirable statistic. About fifteen pounds of that I actually needed to gain because I had become so skeletal during these last hard years of divorce and depression. The next five pounds, I just gained for fun. As for the final three? Just to prove a point, I suppose.
这一切都很合理：前不久我在一家高级饭店踏上磅秤，得知我在意大利的四个月已重了二十三磅——真教人佩服的数字。事实上我大概需要增加十五磅，因为过去几年间，离婚和抑郁的折磨使我变得瘦骨如柴。多出来的五磅只是闹着玩儿。至于最后的三磅？只是为了加以证明吧。

But so it is that I find myself shopping for an item of clothing I will always keep in my life as a cherished souvenir: "My Last Month in Italy Jeans." The young lady in the shop is nice enough to keep bringing me bigger and bigger sizes, handing them through the curtain one after another without commentary, only asking with concern each time if this is closer to a fit. Several times, I have needed to poke my head out of this curtain and ask, "Excuse me—do you have a pair that is slightly bigger?" Until the nice young lady finally gives me a pair of jeans with a waist measurement that verily hurts my eyes to witness. I step out of the dressing room, presenting myself to the salesgirl.
She doesn't blink. She looks at me like an art curator trying to assess the value of a vase. A rather large vase.
于是我去采购一件衣物，当做生命中永久保存的珍贵纪念品——我在意大利最后一个月的牛仔裤。年轻女店员很好心，不断给我拿来愈来愈大的尺寸，一件一件递给布帘后的我，未做任何评论，每回只是关心地询问这件是否比较合身。好几次我不得不从帘子后探出头来：请问，有没有‘稍微’大一点的尺寸？直到好心的年轻女士终于拿给我一件腰围尺寸刺痛我眼睛的牛仔裤为止。我走出更衣间，出现在女店员面前。她并未眨眼。她看着我，好似美术馆长尝试评估花瓶的价值，一只相当大的花瓶。

"Carina," she decides finally. Cute.
她终于断定地说，可爱。

I ask her in Italian if she could please tell me honestly whether these jeans are causing me to resemble a cow.
我用意大利语问能否请她诚实地告诉我，这件牛仔裤是否让我像头母牛。

No, signorina, I am told. You do not resemble a cow. "Do I resemble a pig, then?"
不，女士，她告诉我，你不像母牛。那像不像猪？

No, she assures me with great seriousness. Nor do I resemble a pig in the least.
不，她郑重其事向我保证我一点也不像猪。

"Perhaps a buffalo?"
也许像水牛？

This is becoming good vocabulary practice. I'm also trying to get a smile out of the salesclerk, but she's too intent on remaining professional. I try one more time: "Maybe I resemble a buffalo mozzarella?"
这是很好的词汇练习。我还尝试让店员露出一点笑容，可是她一心想保持专业态度。我又试了一次或许像一块水牛乳酪（Buffalo Mozzarella）？

Okay, maybe, she concedes, smiling only slightly. Maybe you do look a little like a buffalo mozzarella . . .
Eat, Pray, Love
好吧，或许吧，她承认，仅微微一笑。或许你的确有点像水牛乳酪……