Since I got my iPod, a whole new world of media has opened up for me. If I don't have time to watch a show on TV, I can pay to have it downloaded for me to watch on my nano's cute little screen when I'm on an airplane or just sitting around bored. After reading Wendy's review of How to Look Good Naked, I bought a season pass for the show. I knew that Wendy would not suggest I watch treacly bullshit. I was not disappointed. In fact, I am glad that I didn't watch the "Layla" episode on the airplane as planned, because I didn't just get a tear in my eye. I cried. If you don't get a little choked up by that episode, you have to be a stone-hearted troll.
After watching the positive shopping experiences of strangers, I was starting to feel like I could go into the stores and try on clothes and like them, just like a regular person. Lately my body image has taken a hit from the squishiness that accompanied my new job like an unadvertised bonus. Dressing rooms have not been my friend. But Carson inspired me.
On a recent trip, I went shopping with two women I know but not well. One of them is teeny-tiny and short, and the other is teeny-tiny and regular height. I was nervous about the whole thing until we went in this store that had fabulous dresses, and I just had to try one on. No go. It didn't zip at all. Sigh. Luckily neither of them liked what they tried on either, so I didn't think that the problem was just a huge deformity on my part. I could blame the store, which felt like a relief.
At the second store, I was having a wonderful time trying on $200 dresses that I had no intention of buying, and thinking I looked pretty good in them. But the stupid, knee-jerk, compare-and-despair (as Stuart Smalley would say) impulse kicked in when I heard one of them saying to the other, "The 2 is too small for me, but it might fit you. Let me trade you for the 4."
I knew they were small, but I didn't realize they were that small. And the stupid thing is that I felt fine (well, mostly fine) with them until I heard them use those sizes in a sentence that wasn't: "Who do you think actually wears a 2 anyway? I wonder why they even make them?" For some reason I always comforted myself with the belief that those sizes were just for teenagers. I know that the last time in my life that I consistently wore a single-digit size was when I was 13 or 14 years old. They were both wonderful women. I had no reason to think that they were having negative thoughts about me, except that I was so busy having them that I figured they must be universal.
I know I need to keep my eyes on my own paper. And I did buy a gorgeous dress that I liked and even thought I looked pretty in. It was at a huge discount and in a smaller size than I thought I could wear. So why all the internal drama? If I were shopping with a friend who wore a larger size than me and she got all angsty over it, I'd think she was being silly and maybe feel a little annoyed. So when am I going to get a little smarter when it comes to myself?
Where's Carson Kressley when I need him? Or at least the Bra Whisperer?