Friday, June 3, 2011
Tears in the Change Room
Last night I went shopping for a new outfit and for the first time in likely 10 years did not go to Pennignton's or Addition Elle. I went to Reitmans and walked to the left of the store (the plus side is on the right). If you haven't shopped in exclusively plus size for years, it may be hard to understand the pure thrill this gave me. It was like I was acting on a dare and I admit I was kind of nervous about how successful I would be. I did my usual routine of selecting lots of stuff having no idea if any of it would actually look good on. I picked up some jeans in two sizes 15 and 13 (I was curious), some cute shirts, shorts, and cardigans. Then I stripped down in the change room and got to work. Now I have certain rituals that I unconsciously do while trying on clothes. My children have pointed them out to me by mimicking me while we hang out in the change room. I look at myself with one eye open, I hold my breathe, and I pat my hips for good luck. I really do! Well last night it worked because for once the clothes I tried on went on with ease and fit. For once I wasn't tearing the items off in frustration, but lingering with that one eye open wondering could it be? The woman looking back at me in the mirror patting her hips for good luck looked dare I say 'hot' in those jeans! The style experts say you should have that one magic pair of jeans that turn you into a sexy hot number. Well I found them, and in comfort fit (like maternity pants LOL no zipper) no less. The best part they were a size 13! (not a 14 a 13...got to love the sizing at Reitmans they know the mind games we play LOL).
From a size 22 to a 13 (14), now I know I shouldn't let numbers have so much power but that number did for me. So much so that I started to cry. I cried thinking back over the last 10 years as I watched that number on the label of my jeans climb slowly and surely up to a 22. I cried thinking of how as that number grew my love for myself shrunk. I thought of the girl that pulled her pants down in front of her best friends and shook her pouch in humour (after too many wobbly drinks) and we all laughed together, but really I was crying inside. I thought of all the occasions I had dreaded and found a way out of going to because I couldn't find something to wear. Most of all I thought how f' ucking good it felt to feel pretty and not like an overstuffed and wrapped version of myself. I left the store in a hurry, almost like Cinderella in fear that the magic was about to break. I wasn't even in the car before I had my phone out and was calling my Mom to tell her. My mom that has loved me all my life no matter what size I am. My mom that followed me around the house in high school to make sure I didn't throw up my food, that painfully watched while I vacillated up and down, thin and unhealthy, then fat and unhealthy. My mom that helped me find that one outfit that would fit at size 22 and make me feel pretty. My mom that always no matter what size I was loved me and made me feel beautiful. That's who I called from the parking lot in Barhaven in tears, to tell her that I had found the magic (bare with me through the cheese, but like stinky cheese its good cheese). This post isn't to brag and say I have lost weight, yeah me, I can fit in a smaller size. No its a post to say I have found the magic, I have found my true self again after so many years of destructive and disordered eating and thinking. I feel strong, damn strong, and healthy, and HAPPY. I feel like I can be the woman I am meant to be. That I can make dreams like mothering to my best ability, writing, running, being the best wife I can be etc.. come true!
Note: I will update the post later with a pic of my magic jeans when I go out tonight:) but in the meantime felt the need to post these words...out to you my blog friends.