posted by: audra
the other…week, i went to see a very dear friend at the vintage store at which she’s employed. my first plan of action was to see her face; the second was to find something spectacular to wear for my annual day of worship–my birthday.
right away i found the most perfect piece: 1940s (or whatever) baby-blue sheath dress, beaded all over, in really good condition. capped sleeves, mid-calf length. it had some ‘foo’ on it; some discoloration from years of wear, or a champagne toast gone awry. the hem was a little frayed, but nothing a sharp pair of scissors wouldn’t fix. the best part? it was under twenty bucks. believe it! i was in love.
i’m against trying garments on in stores. i hate it. i would rather deal with the hassle of returning or exchanging than to go into a tiny fitting room, smelling of moist armpits & vadge sweat, fucking up my hair, only to look into an unflattering mirror intensifying my cellulite under fluorescent lighting. gross. who wants to mess with that?
so, i hold the dress up to my waist. i’ve learned the fine art of holding things up to me, to see if they fit, without trying them on. i’ve always been 100% accurate. did you know that if you hold a dress (or whatever) up to your front, and can fit it halfway around you, then it will fit? the waist of the blue baby fit perfectly. i pulled it across my chest. again, perfect.
the dress makes it safely back to our home, where i try on my other treasures first. everything’s good. i step into the dress, and it hugs my hips in a non-hideous way, making me look thinner somehow. the top fits as well. the shoulder parts fall in just the right places.
fuck. the zipper won’t go up.
it won’t. even. move.
my back is FAT. my back! fat!
i’m spilling over like a heavy-loaded fruit tree.
whatever. stupid fucking vintage garments & their fucked up proportions!
filthy tight, the dress is filthy.
but look at these fucking beads!
i went hunting in my closet for something else to wear. remember that short, flared skirt i used to wear? the black one? kind of woolly? yes, here it is. i pull it on.
i can’t get it fucking buttoned. at ALL. i don’t even want to think of attempting to put on my favorite size 6 halter dress from several years ago.
but it’s feeling so damn tight tonight.
so, okay. look. i’ve been over this a gabillion times, but for god’s sake! i truly believe that i will be forever self-sabotaging myself. when we first moved in september, i took walks. all the time. sometimes two, three times a day. i’d get up early. i worked out. jillian michels 30-day shred! i was so sore the first week, i could barely move. my weight was the lowest it’s been in 2 years. my muffin-top was gone.
then the weather got sort of crappy, & i started sleeping in. i skipped working out, and sat looking for a job instead. i drank a LOT of beer. i may have had some cheese, too.
is this common, the up-down weighty issues? i’ve done it for as long as i can remember…and when i was at a weight close to 130lbs seven years ago with a shaved head, i didn’t think i’d ever gain weight again. but i did, lost it, gained it back, about five times over. so what if i fancy hot dogs, bacon & a pat of butter every now & then? if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it seventy-seven times: i’m not an over-eater! i’m an over-drinker. maybe my food choices aren’t the best all the time. and i’m lazy. do you even know what kind of damage that combination can do to your chins?!
last year my goal was to lose a bunch of weight, get skinny & bleach my hair to look like debbie harry in the 70s. do you know how many layers of black hair-dye i have on my head?! too many to ever be that blonde. perhaps i need something a little more realistic, like fitting into the dress? or, at least my old, flared black skirt. gross…is this me making the new years resolutions already?!