Thursday, September 22, 2011
Le Freak, C'est Chic
I know for every person who weighs themselves on a daily basis there is one who doesn’t weigh themself at all and instead uses their clothes as a guide. I would say that I am somewhere in the middle. I weigh myself around once a week but I also know that no matter what the scale says my clothes will tell their own story. I know this because even at the weight I’ve been carrying for the last couple of years, I’ve been wearing a smaller size thanI have in the past at this same weight. For me, this means my clothes have been acknowledging the working out that I do, even if the scale does not.
My least favorite clothing switch is from the loose flowy sundresses of summer to the more tailored clothing of fall, winter, and spring. Right around the end of September to mid-October is when this usually happens and honestly, no matter what the scale says, I dread it.
Because I have an outing planned for Friday evening that will require casual clothing – but not a sundress as it will officially be autumn by then after all – I had to dig out my dressier jeans and khakis to figure out what I could put together. As I shook them out and held them up my brain began to scream, “These were getting tight by last spring and now you know you’ve gained weight since last fall…” but I chose to ignore it and began to pull them on. They did go up over my hips but only zipped halfway and were not even close to buttoning, even if I did the typical womanly trick of laying down on the bed to flatten out my pot belly.
Not me but very well could have been...
So, now I was faced with having to find a pair of jeans or khakis or something that would fit before Friday. Tuesday at lunchtime, I ran into TJ Maxx and grabbed a pair of jeans that looked like they would fit - Ralph Laren - so even though they were the same size as my old jeans I figured being designer they would also run big. Get home after MT, cleaned up and used that opportunity to try them on. They fit but unfortunately were so long I'd have to wear heels and I
need to want to wear flats. Sigh. But my bad for not trying on.
So back to looking for jeans. Yesterday while out at lunch to buy a roll to eat the chicken salad I’d brought for lunch, I ran into the Dress Barn that is right next to the grocery store. Dress Barn has 2 sides: regular misses sizes and "woman"....14W-24W. As I enter, I am just praying I don't have to go on the W side. (That would be like going to the dark side for me.) I go in, find jeans and grab the size I’d like to wear and a larger size, still hoping I don’t have to go on the W side of the store. The smaller size did not fit and the larger? Glided right on like they were made for me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I found jeans that fit and were the right length because the size I had to buy is my official freak out size. Even though they were still from the regular misses section I could not find any comfort in that. So, I sat in that dressing room trying not to have a melt down and yes, freaking out.
My current feelings about all this are only compounded by the fact that all of the exercise I’m doing right now feels really hard. As I said when I was trying to explain to Mr. Helen about our Muay Thai class Tuesday (and he wasn't 'getting' it): the moves were not hard but I felt so fat and out of shape and out of breath that I was miserable.
While I have no choice but to wear my freak out size at this time, because yes, even I know you need to wear what fits otherwise you look ridiculous, I am not happy about it. Not one single bit. I feel betrayed by my clothes.
Double whammy: not happy with the scale, not happy with my clothes. Miserable in fact.
Le Freak? Not so chic.