Sunday, January 29, 2012

The last time my closet made me cry.

Months before the wedding we attended in August, I had mentally picked out the dress I would wear. It's this pretty little black and white patterned strapless number with a poofed skirt. I love that dress. On the day of, however, it was squeezing me in all the wrong places. I had a muffin top at the top of the dress, and the rest of my torso wasn't exactly smooth. Fiance had to help me zip it up, and it was a struggle for him. Disappointed, I took it off and reached for the back up.

The next dress also has a poofed skirt, and is red and black. I wore it the day we got engaged. But once again, Fiance struggled to zip it up, and it looked all wrong on me. I was on the verge of tears at this point. I finally settled on another cute black-and-white dress that fit just fine.

On another occasion, I put on a dress that I hadn't worn in four years, a black one with a colorful floral print. Once I forced my arms through the sleeves, however, I knew this wasn't happening. But I couldn't get my arms back through! Crying, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed scissors in an attempt to cut the sleeves off! Fortunately, I only made a tiny tear before Fiance came to my rescue.

I am not fat. But I'm not slender either. The rare times I spend money on clothing these days, I buy size 7. Just a few years ago, I was a size 5. And a few years before that, a size 3. I am not fat. But at some point I had to stop the slow progression. I have 15 pairs of pants in my closet, but consistently only wear four pairs because they are what fit at my current weight. I have two very cute, very stylish (and very expensive!) pairs of jeans that Fiance bought me at Buckle two-and-a-half years ago. He even paid to have the length tailored. I've worn them a handful of times since.

I had several size 3 outfits that I stopped wearing in late 2004, and for years I hung onto them, telling myself, "I'll fit into them someday." Someday never came, though, and I finally gave them all to Redhead's middle-school-aged sister when she moved here with the clothes on her back and a small suitcase.

I am not fat. But I am not happy, either. I want to wear those pretty dresses. I want to wear those cute jeans. I want to button up all the button on my uniform and still have room for lunch! I want to feel confident in a two-piece while sunbathing. I want to walk across a room full of people and not suck in my stomach.

I am not fat. I will never be fat.

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