Skinny Dress

It’s Friday!  Liberation Day!  El Dia de Liberacion!  What am I going to do tonight to enjoy my freedom? 

Probably absolutely nothing.  I’m fascinating like that.  Anyway, given that the weather is still not cooperating (it’s cool and cloudy), I’m having a hard time dragging myself out of the winter shell.  I suppose I’m going to run to the gym tonight, jog on their excellent treadmills for a bit, then head home for the night.  I would jog here, but I am so bored with the home jogging routine.  Old treadmill , road, road, old treadmill.  It’s wonderful to run early, but I was quite hungry today.  The needs of the stomach superseded the needs of the cardiovascular system.

It’ll get done.  Besides, my body is quite happy with me at the moment – no smoke, lots of running, weightlifting and lots of water.  How can I tell?  Well, ever heard of the terms "fat jeans" and "skinny jeans?"  Well, I have a "skinny dress."  I don’t have a "fat dress" because, well . . . I don’t wear dresses often enough to need to own a "fat dress."

Anyway, in July 2001, the first of my four high school friends (K) got married.  Because I am big on shopping for formal dresses, I had spotted and purchased my dress months before.  When I slipped into that yellow, green and blue dress, I looked smashing.  Even my date, a good friend of mine from the front desk, was impressed – and we spent the majority of our time cheerfully insulting one another’s looks while we worked away the summer hours.  It looked perfect on me – with the right jewelry and hairstyle, I made people’s heads turn.  I liked it so much (you know, the whole showing up the bride deal – kidding, K, L, B and S!) that I did it every year – great dress, great hair, great jewelry.  I got asked out at my friend L’s wedding three years ago, but by then I was dating a certain grad student who exasperates me to this day.

Anyhow, that was the dress that illustrated to me the pinnacle of my healthiness.  It’s also a size 7, so you can see where this is going.  Periodically, I would try the thing on and giggle insanely at my gorgeous image in the mirror (yes, I’m modest!  All right, all ready!).  I looked g-r-r-reat.  And as shallow as this all sounds for someone who supposedly has a bunch of intelligent thoughts in her head, please realize – I’m extremely smart, efficient and resourceful, but I will always enjoy looking good.  After four years of being ignored in high school because I was 65 pounds overweight, it was my time, damnit.  Still is.

So time rolled on for this bright woman.  I worked as an office manager (ugh, but what a bonus on current job applications), went to Toronto, finished my M.A.  The day rolled around when I was going to go out to dinner and needed a nice dress.  It was spring, it was a nice dress, it could be dressed down if need be.  So I slipped into my dress and then . . .

It was tight around my stomach and butt!  I was FAT again!

I stared at myself in disbelief.  With the right equipment, I could make it fit, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was that I needed to look as fabulous as I did in July 2001.  And it was only 2003, so what the hell was the problem?  I scrunched up my face, sniffed a bit, then cried briefly.  I was FAT.  Again.

I was still a size 8.  Just not an occasional size 7.  I was devastated.  I did my best to lose that weight.  I ran, I tried to eat right, but I didn’t add water or any weightlifting.  I’d try it on periodically, see if it would fit, be disappointed that it didn’t.  I’d sink into fits of "Oh my God, I’m slowly but surely turning into a heifer."  Never mind I ran like crazy and didn’t overeat.  I had just settled at a weight higher than my college weight.  Not too much more, but enough to make me fear the worst.  I didn’t walk everywhere, I didn’t run around like crazy all over a campus.  I was a desk jockey.  And this is what happens to neglectful desk jockeys:

OhmyGodI’mgettingfatIcan’tbelieveitIrunsomuchIdon’teatatonmyGod
peoplearegoingtogivemefunnylooksIcan’tbefatagainIPisgoingtodumpme
myGodIwanttobeskinnyjustlikemysisterhowdoesshedoitadnauseumetcetera.

So I’ve tried for the past two years to lose the weight and fit into my dress.  And I kept on failing.

Lately, though, lots of people have been telling me that I’ve been losing weight.  It’s intentional, yes – I want to get strong for my half-marathon and want to be healthier in my eating and drinking habits.  I’d resisted the idea of trying on my dress – I’d just be disappointed and start the vicious cycle of negative thoughts all over again.  However, I couldn’t resist.  Sunday night, I tried it on.

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

I’m not quite there, but it’s no longer tight around my stomach and butt.  And this is only two weeks into the weightlifting.  I have to credit the water and the healthy eating on this one.  But once the weightlifting kicks in, I’ll be slipping into that thing like I’m 23 years old.

Sorry for the over-the-top delight, but I can’t help it.  Finally, I’m getting away from the bad habits and doing something good for my body.