I went out at lunch today and did some boutique window shopping. I had some girly time looking at flowery dresses, floaty tops and gorgeous tunics that I imagined someday I might fit into. Believe it or not, thinking of how losing another ten pounds would put me in the realm of wearing these was a wee teensy bit motivating.
I’m tired of oversized tee’s and jeans for convenience of hauling children about. I’m tired of only having a few selections in my closet to wear, since I gave away all my old skinny clothes, and my maternity wear.
I was so tempted to try things on, but I am still fearful of baring my soul to the dressing room mirror while I struggle into clothing, the weight of disappointment when nothing fits heavy and draining. Usually I go in, find the XL top or bottom and leave again.
I’m a chicken.
I know, silly, but I was conscious of it especially because I was touring vintage boutiques. The sizes are limited, or very different from a mall clothing store size (really, that is a large? I can’t fit my arm in it…), so I get so worried about ripping the expensive fabric, or staining it with my sweaty-summer-self, that I just get too shy and I don’t.
One place I stopped at was having a 50% off sale, and there was a gorgeous silk green and pink peony printed scarf dress that I immediately fell in love with. I imagined wearing it on our vacation out for dinner, or, maybe even after dinner *wink wink*.
It was a one-size-fits-
allmost, and being only $40 after discounts, and I stood and held it out for a long time, my girly self absorbed in the fantasy of affordable luxury like this finding its way into my closet. The saleswoman, obviously sensing my wiggling on the fence, dragged me and it over to a dressing room and said “You must try this on”. So I did, throwing care to the wind and telling myself it would be perfect.
I am now officially having a fat day.
I was able to shimmy into it, and get it to settle over my hips, where it floated to the ground like gossamer. I twirled, and adjusted the top, which fit lovely over my chest and shoulders. I loved the feel of it, the softness, the dip of the front that was quite sexy. I have not worn something like this in so long. Wal-Mart does not sell this kind of thing, folks, and my budget has been strictly Wal-Mart for some time now. *sigh*
So, feeling confident and blissfully girly, I tried to do up the zipper on the back.
No way was that zipper going up. Nuh-uh. Nooo frickin’ way.
I stood in the dressing room, deflated, suddenly aware how sweaty I was from the heat outside, how white and dimply my legs looked in the lighting, how wide my belly was. I took the dress off carefully, hung it back up, got dressed, and left the store before I could burst into tears.
Why did I do that to myself?