I just read Howard's posting...and now I'm all caught up. When he was dreaming of chips and a good football game...I was out on Montana Avenue looking for a new top for our meeting that we have tomorrow. So far my day 2 isn't so bad. I too had a turkey burger with no bun for lunch, but I'm never really hungry when I know I'm going to go try on clothes. (Nothing kills an appetite like having to ask for a size up.) So I stop by the store on the corner of our street, Planet Blue. (they have lots of cute things and they change their windows every day which I think is very smart considering I walk our dog Doozy every day by their window displays.)
Anyway, here's the deal with Planet Blue. They have a lot of cute stuff, mainly for tall skinny California girls...but every now and again I can find a nice flowy thing that will fit me (i'm so not a tall skinny California girl). Here's the downside of Planet Blue. They are one of those stores that really just caters to their own particular audience, so much so, that they never have a size larger than a medium. Seriously. They have XXSmall, XSmall, Small and Medium. That's it. So basically I can only pick from the Mediums that are cut on the larger roomier size.
The first medium I can't even button, like at all. I am now regretting that I even ate a turkey burger. The next shirt fit me around the waist, but if I moved my arms at all it was a bit dicey. And if say, I actually tried to hug someone, this shirt would surely split wide open... and I'd be left looking like the Hulk in tattered clothes...GRRRR! WHY CAN'T ME FIT IN A MEDIUM!! (I'm not sure if the hulk can talk, but let's just say he can... that's sort of the sentiment he'd express I'm sure.)
In the next dressing room I hear someone ask the saleslady for a smaller size. Wow, I wonder what that feels like? I close my eyes and imagine myself as itty bitty skinny teeny tiny, basically a slip of a thing (that's always been one my dreams...to be a girl who could be described as a mere "slip of a thing"...not that I even know what exactly that even is, but yet it sounds good to me.) My only consolation is that I'm pretty sure that me as the Hulk could probably trounce a tiny slip of a thing in a back alley fight.
Finally I find a nice blue silk top. It's roomy around the middle, it's cut wide in the arms...VICTORY. In fact it's cut so wide that I'm wondering whether I could actually be that girl who asks for one size down? I'm afraid my voice will crack if I actually say the words out loud, so instead I go and look for myself. I find the same shirt in a size SMALL. I scurry back into the dressing room with it, eyes darting furtively, licking my lips I'm convinced I must look like a shoplifter who is just trying to steal the dream of being the girl who can wear a size small.
It fits. Kinda. I mean, it's passable, but who am I kidding? The MEDIUM looked better... the medium felt better because it fit better. I am a MEDIUM (in this particular top...usually I'm a large, so hey, it could be worse.)
Maybe half the battle of dieting and working on all my body hang-ups (if only I had longer legs, if only my calves were skinnier, if only I did have a soft pillsbury belly, if only I had a bigger bust which would even out all the other parts of me that are bigger...) is acceptance. I, Jenny Lee, am a medium in this particular top and if I may so myself, it looks good on me. (Would it really make any difference in the grand scheme of things if it were a size SMALL? Probably not. Well, it might, but I guess I won't know... for a while... I mean, what can you expect from Day #2 of a diet?)
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