To some those combinations of letters and numbers are basically their entire world. How they view themselves is solely based on the size they wear. If they go up a size, they go home and throw away junk food, and get on the treadmill. If they go down a size, everyone and their mother are going to know about it on social media one way or another.
How is this normal? The size that you wear means nothing to Joe Blow that is checking out behind you.
I have struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember. I danced growing up and was never the skinniest one in my dance class. I had boobs, a stomach, and thighs. But I could twirl just as well as the other skinnies. I went to college, lived on my own for 4 years and gained weight. Stress from school, a little depression from being on my own and unhealthy habits got the best of me. What can I say? It happens. I moved back home, got a job and started realizing just how truly unhappy I was in my own skin.
Hello, wake up call. I am 26. I have never really been in a real relationship. My younger brother is happy in love and ready to tie the knot. Let's also mention that I seriously just have to refresh my Facebook and BAM another couple is engaged or announcing they're pregnant. That alone is enough to buy stock in Ben and Jerry's. Call me corny but that is all I have ever wanted in life. To be happy in love, in a white house with a red door and kids playing in the backyard. So cliche, I know. (You don't have to tell me twice.) And now he was getting his chance. All I have to show for my nonexistent love life is my Cheeto-stained fingers and me live tweeting The Bachelorette.
But it hasn't been until recently where I finally came into my own about everything going on in my life. My mom and I met up with my future sis-in-law to catch up about life in St. Augustine. The outlet mall was across the street from the restaurant that we met her at so when the going gets though, we go shopping.
I have been stressed beyond belief about the idea of finding a dress for this wedding it is not even funny. I keep looking at dresses with the only thought process being would that look good in pictures or would I look like a bloated whale? We ended up in Lane Bryant Outlet and I have never prayed so hard in my life that maybe something would stand out on the racks for me to try on so I didn't seem so helpless finding a dress for this event less than 3 months away.
I found a red lace natural waist dress. They had sizes 14, 22 or 26. That's fun! I have been trying to cut back and watch what I eat to get ready for the shindig. I knew I had lost some weight. Not enough to fit a size 14 but maybe a 22. I got someone to pull the zipper and hot damn it went up!
The thing is just because the zipper went up, does NOT mean it looked good. The dress had this natural waistband and it hit me at the wrong spot and didn't lay right on me. So we got the 26 and sure enough, the dress laid better on my curves and didn't make me so exposed if you know what I mean.
Was I crushed when I had to get the larger size? No.
The size that was on the dress label meant nothing to me. Sure. I was so proud of myself when that the size 22 zipper zipped. But nothing compares to the feeling of the dress looking good on my body.
No worrying that my muffin top was hanging out. No worrying that my boobs were going to poke someone's eye out. No worrying about sitting down and something could come tumbling out of place. No worrying about popping a seam. No worrying that if I bent over all of the world would be scarred for life at what they saw.
It rages me to no end when I people get so worked up over the stupid size. If I dressed the smallest part of my body and let everything just hang out, I would be in jail for public indecency.
It is so important to highlight your assets and cover your imperfections in a respectful way. I tell people all the time to not look at the tag but to look at how you look in the mirror when you were trying on the clothes. Just because you can close the button on size 12 jeans doesn't mean they actually fit. If it looks like you stuffed yourself in the jeans and have a muffin top, chances are it doesn't fit. I am sorry but it is just not cute to bend over and have everything come spilling out like hot lava.
Just look at how shocked these women were when they tried on clothes without looking at the tag:
I am a 2X. Sometimes 3X or 1X. But above all else...
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