Let’s talk about our bodies. It’s a sore subject and even with the “love your body / body positive” campaigns going on in the world, picking little things to hate on our own bodies has become a second nature to us. We support all our friends and truly believe they look awesome when they don’t feel their best. But in the confines of our own homes, I know most of us aren’t as confident. I know I am my own worst critic in every single way – whether it was the need to get high honors at graduation, graduating early to start my first job at age 20 or having the need to work out every day to “perfect” my body, I tried really hard to succeed.
When I turned 21 last year, whether it was all in my own head or not, I felt like my body’s began changing more and more. At first, I thought it was because I took a corporate style job where I was chained to my desk for at least seven hours a day. But that couldn’t be it, being the fitness/control freak I am – I’ve done Whole30 and woke up at 6:30 AM to fit workouts in before work. Regardless of how strict of a regime I kept, my hips did change, which apparently is what happens when you’re in your twenties and you move towards childbearing age. Feel free to fact check me if I’m wilin’ right now and that’s not true at all.
Even though it’s something I can’t control, it does still bother me. It bothers me even more because I have no control over how my body reacts. And you know what? Who gives a fuck? No one else realizes this besides me because I psycho-analyze my own body. My boyfriend could give less of a shit + thinks I’ve looked the same for years. So nine times out of ten, I will admit that it is in my own head and I’m insecure due to the weird requirements I give myself, which are completely unfair to begin with. Why do I aspire to be as teensy as a runway model when I do not really have any dreams to pursue that as a career choice? Though I won’t lie, doing catalogue modeling and having photoshoots does seem like a good time…in theory of course.
Let’s be real here, body proportions are a roll of the dice. You are blessed with what you are born with and though exercise and diet do dictate how your body will end up, you cannot change your bones, height or resting weight. How did I end up here with this illogical disappointment in myself? Through spring cleaning.
I cleaned out all the clothes I do not wear to either donate or sell to a consignment store. Though 99% of the clothes I am giving away do fit me and just do not reflect my sense of style anymore, the one dress that doesn’t fit me is haunting me.
My French Connection bandage dress that was so easy to slide on my body two years ago won’t even go over my ass. At first, I tried to suck in and squeeze the dress up which worked but ended up not zipping all the way. Five minutes of staring myself in the mirror and I made myself come to terms with it. I cannot and will not be trying to fit myself into this size 0 dress, which I’m pretty sure I bought too small anyways cause I clearly like to make myself feel shitty at times. At the end of the day, I still fit into all my other clothes that I’ve had for twice as long and this dress could have shrunk in the wash / is just not as forgiving as my other clothes.
I’m trying to make peace with it. People change. Bodies change. That’s how we grow up and progress to the next chapters in our lives. And I truly am ten times happier now than I was a few years ago. I’ve been through lots of different hair colors, been through many social phases and figured out my priorities and what means a lot to me. The icing on top? My eyebrows have grown back with a vengeance and are strong and in charge these days. Who cares about that one dress that doesn’t fit? I love everything else about me so it is time to let that dress go. I hope it makes someone else happy instead.