Shop till I drop...

I truly have no idea about the current size of my body. I realized this while shopping the other day. I picked up a few things, size medium, as I have been known to fit into a medium in a few other stores. But as I found myself surprised in the dressing room (because the items fit just fine) I realized I expected them not to fit. This is pretty much a conundrum. I am not sure how to fix this problem in my head.

My brain thinks I still weigh over 200 pounds. My ass does not agree. It’s all very strange and I wish I could just look at myself and say, “Hey, I’m a size medium, so I know exactly how big or how small my body is.” Instead, I find myself surprised pretty often. Back in the day I used to try things on, and fully expect them to fit, only to discover that they were too small. Now I appear to have the opposite problem, and I’m without a clue as to how to make sense of it all. I can recall countless dressing room experiences where I thought I was one size, only to discover that I was a size bigger—and hey, a lot of that depends on the store, but it still happened. Just recently my size 12 jeans were too big, so I went to try on a size 10 and they didn’t fit either. I think that’s why when the size 10 jeans finally did fit, I thought they must be lying to me. The same goes for a size medium article of clothing. Apparently I was convinced that while I fit into a particular size medium item, I was still very much not a size medium.

Except it would appear that for the most part, I am. In high school I remember having to try on prom dresses (vomit) and literally getting stuck and having to have my friends help pry me out of a couple. I can’t lie: there is even a picture of me, stuck in a purple prom dress, with a friend helping to pull it over my head. It was kind of a joke at the time… “Hey, Leslie is stuck in another dress!” But really, it wasn’t funny, and I probably should refrain from using humor when I am self-conscious. Note to self: when stuck in clothing, do not make a joke, because people will laugh, and you will be the girl unable to remove a too-small article of clothing without the aid of the laughing people. Being half-naked in a dressing room makes this even more awkward. You can’t hide your fat from people when you’re in your underwear.

At that point in my life, I wished to be a size medium: average, unnoticeable, and forever without a need to be pried free from clothing with a helping hand and/or the Jaws of Life. Now that I am this size (and have been this size for some time now) I find that I still have days where I feel fat—except now I don’t know if that’s just my head being messed up, if I’m just a little bloated, or if I actually have gained weight. It makes shopping really, really difficult. Lots of people wish for a magic pill to aid weight loss, but I wish for a magic pill to help me figure out how to view my body correctly.

Not to mention, the other day I tried on a dress and still had to have my sister help pry me free. Those things are damn tricky.