Shopping for clothes has not been fun for the past decade. It was fun in college, when I got myself down to a size eight. But even then I didn’t really enjoy it. Trying on clothes in sizes that I hoped would fit but didn’t left me in tears in many a dressing room, especially as my size kept increasing.
I have a big event tomorrow, and I needed to buy a suit. I wasn’t looking forward to this outing, but Justin had faith. Friends had recommended White House Black Market, but I was sure none of their clothes would fit. Somewhat daunted, I made my way through the mall with Justin and Robbie in tow. I was crushed when I looked at the racks and saw they only went up to a size 14. Feeling tears springing in my eyes, I turned to Justin and told him we would have to leave. We could try Macy’s. Maybe they would go up one or two more sizes.
Justin gave me a stern look and told me to try on the clothes. So I did. I had to call in one of the fitting room attendants; I had no idea if the dress actually fit. It seemed OK, but, after all, it was a size 14. There was no way it could fit. She looked at me like I had three heads and assured me that it not only fit, but it looked fabulous (surely she was working on commission, right?). But, you know what? She was right. Not only did that dress fit, but so did the suits and the shirts that she brought in.
I felt like I had arrived. For the first time in nearly a decade, I enjoyed shopping for clothes. They made me feel fabulous. They made me feel worthy, like I fit in with the rest of the world. And, even though this week hasn’t shown it, more determined than ever to continue to work for myself and enjoy my life in my new body.