Wednesday, January 13, 2010

I actually just put on jeans....

..... and I think I'm ok with it!
 
For those of you who don't know me, I'm a dress person. I love love LOVE dresses! I don't know why, they're just so girly and swirly and easy. One piece, throw it on and you're done!

They're also comfortable, and on days when your hair just isn't going right or you have a big pimple in the middle of your forehead, a dress can try and make up for it.  You know, when you're feeling really ugly.  Because, in case nobody told you, fancy balances frumpy! A frumpy feeling gal + a fancy dress = Francy. Which in my book is A-OK!
I've felt sub-francy all my life.  Frizzy brown hair, plaid glasses, short and stout in a sea of  tall, blond Birminghamsters.


Birminghamsters in case you don't know, are those who inhabit my hometown, an affluent suburb outside of Detroit. It's a place where waspy decadence and entitlement is the norm.  Where in sixth grade you're a nobody without a golden, post-spring break tan.  (This means that your parents whisked you away to some Caribbean island or to get one last run in at a mountainous ski resort. Aspen anyone!?) Of course, the latter example would be not just a golden tan, but  a SKI GOGGLE TAN.  JUST as highly coveted.  I only once had an Aspen ski goggle tan. Therefore I am not up to par.
I grew up feeling quite the ugly duckling. Though my parents tried, yes they tried...... At one point, I was quite "kept".  

My father would take me for luxurious facials at Margot's European Day Spa. Until one day they forgot my toweled self under a steamer. (I'd still recommend them though.) He'd take me shopping for color coordinated, cute outfits. Ones with matching accessories and shoes. Matching shoes! You used to be able to buy little sneakers at the Gap with prints that matched the shirts. Can you imagine?

 But I always seem to come off  awkward, not the perfection that is a Birminghamster.
 There were contacts and braces , and trips to the salon, and the makeup counter.  I can tell you with totally assurance that my skin care products, make-up and clothing back then, far exceed in many ways, what I have now. 
Oh it was a charmed life. Minus the frizzy brown hair, plaid glasses, braces and being 4' 10".
I went to weight watchers, went to girl's horseback riding camp, put in countess miles dancing to cassingles* in my basement, but nothing seemed to up my confidence, or image for that matter.  (* My first cassingle: "Right Here, Right Now" by Jesus Jones.) O.M.G.

And here's the shocker. Ready for the  Piece de Resistance!?  
Even, EVEN.....while at a Shoe Show in New York, EVEN my father had Freedom Williams 


from C & C Music Factory , (which was a hot band at the time.), you know "GONNA MAKE YOU SWEAT ;EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!".  


Had Freedom Williams call me

on the phone one day after school to give me a shout out, and even THAT, did not give me street cred.  (But it did confirm why I thought C & C was Da Bomb!) It was hopeless.......   :(
So I grew up and became an adult, who always hated the way that she looked. I did. I do. It's hard. It's not like I'm delusional,  I mean DUH, I am aware that most, if not 99.5% of women don't like their bodies at some point.  I just don't like my body enough that I'm  afraid to wear jeans!

Yes, you heard me, AFRAID of wearing jeans! I got it in my head a while ago that I must look horrid in jeans, and that is why you'll rarely see me in them these days.  It was ok for a while, but now I'm back to my old self-loathing, jean fearing self.
I joined Weight Watchers, and for a year, an entire year, I measured and counted and journaled each and every morsel of food that went into my mouth. I worked and worked and worked.  I worked so hard in fact that I lost 40lbs, and three dress sizes, and weighed almost what I did in the seventh grade! I felt good, I felt confident, I was wearing my SKINNY JEANS! Woo Hoo! Jeans, jeans, jeans. 

(Your WHAT!? Your...SKINNY? Jeans you say? Alright stop it. Ha ha ha, they're skinny to me ok?)
But then all that counting. It just got SO OLD. It just got so restrictive and redundant and I was hungry and I missed food and I was miserable and hated being on a diet and felt like I was trapped and resented every minuted of it. I began to eat like a normal person and of course, you know what's next.....blah....blah.... I gained some weight. I gained by enough to go up a size, and then my  body stopped and has just stayed there for six months. Kind of like my natural set-point. And even though I'm still a good two sizes smaller than I was before, and even though at this weight when I was on Weight Watchers, I felt so good, I now feel self-conscious and you guessed it, have a fear of Jeans once again. BOO.

And ladies and gentlemen, now for the NUMBER ONE REASON I AM A DRESS PERSON, NOT A JEANS PERSON.........(drum roll please!) BBBbbbbbbbbbbbrrrr............DROPLETS......................... Ta dah! Droplets! 


Yeah, droplets.  My name for the tiny amount of water that gets onto your socks from the dragging cuffs of your jeans on wet days. I CAN'T STAND droplets! EEEEEWWWWWW.
See, I told you I have sensory problems.

Now that I think of it though, I also hate indoor sock droplets. I don't wear socks in the kitchen or bathroom for just that reason! It's a mine field I tell you.
Ok, but the whole point of this post is, that today I just became so sick of dressing up. I sat in a morning meeting for three hours in a nice dress and tights and boots and big earring that hurt my ear holes, and afterwards I was like "Enough"!  I ran home and threw on some jeans and a soft cotton shirt (and not socks, cause you know, droplets), and it felt so great!

I also, just to be sure that they weren't getting any tighter, tried my jeans on with regular underwear and thongs. Yes, you can relax, I have done the work for you,  jeans do feel more snug with regulars on. It's not you, it's your underwear playing tricks on you.
Now that I want to wear jeans again, I really need to learn to like myself. Part of that might be moving more. I love walking outside, or spending time on the elliptical. It might mean Wii Fit or even snowboarding (which ahem...I RULZ).  Or it could mean that I eat better, less, start the diet again. BUT, I think what it really should mean the most is, learning to love myself. Learning to be ok with who I am, the me. I may not be Birminghamster material, but I'm me. 

I rarely watch TV anymore. Who has time? They said that for a person like me, owning a DVR would change my life, and it has. Can you say GHOST HUNTERS anytime, all the time. 24/7!
 
I also came across some weird ass channel, Lifetime Television Real Women. It has super awesome shows, including "HOW TO LOOK GOOD NAKED". It's not what you think. Come on, it's British, of course they're going to have some cheeky little title. Ha, ha, get it? Cheeky!?
How to Look Good Naked takes a new woman each week, some poor sadly lady, who just like me, dislikes the way her body looks. Then the faaaaaabulous host, Gok Wan has them strip down to their skivies. Then the ladies cry and then they outline their shape onto a mirror with a dry erase pen. Then, they look at other nearly nude ladies and try to guess which one has the same measurements as theirs, and they always guess way too large. Then they throw away their old clothes and Gok Wan buys them awesome, new underwear and girdles. Then they go shopping for flattering clothes and Gok Wan makes them take a semi-nude picture and he puts it on a billboard in the center of London. After that they have to be in a fashion show in an over crowded mall and moon the audience at the end. Finally they love their bodies and everyone cries except the husbands, who smile because they just finally saw their wives's ass for the first time in twenty-three years. 

And I tell you, this show has really helped me to like my body.  These hips don't lie baby! Tell me are you ready for this jelly? This body is bootilicious!


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