Swearing, Jumping and a Butt Bruise

I have a 'clothes' story to tell today. Clothes and I have had an interesting history from the beginning. Something like a ‘love-hate’ relationship. I love how they look, just hate how they look on me. I am, like most of the women I’ve ever met, trying to lose weight. This isn’t the first time I’ve ever tried, but I believe it is the first time I am not hating it while trying. I figured out several years ago why I’ve never been fond of clothes-shopping like all my friends. I always walk away realizing that what I thought was made for big-boned-ed people, was actually made for me. :-) Here’s a typical scenario: I pick up what looks like it’ll fit, go into the dressing room, and then try to get it on despite the tearing sounds I imagine are coming from the next stall. And the whole time, I’m chanting ‘it’s gonna fit, I swear, I just need to get it over one shoulder, and then it’s gonna fit… seriously….” You know how this ends, right? Once you’ve managed to get that one shoulder in, you realize it is useless, and now are trying to get the heck out of the top while you’re running into the walls of the stall because you’re blinded by the top which is half on and half off. Once I backed up into the door knob and didn’t know how to explain that bruise on my butt (wondering whom I had to explain it to, aren’t ya?). And then there was the time with the pants… You’d think I’d know better than to go near the pants… I have artificial knees that I am not supposed to run or jump with. And yet, there I was unable to avoid just that. The darn pants were shy and reluctant, unless I jumped in place for about 30 seconds. Once that hurdle had been jumped (no pun intended, haha), I had to run around (a bit hysterically) to get the button on. Back in the “snap button” days, I was like a broken record in there. I knew I shouldn’t have looked in the mirror, but who ever said I was a coward? My hair had lost all semblance of order, my lipstick and eyeliner were skewed across my face, and the pants looked mad angry at my legs/hips. Imagine my one-arm-in shirt look… it was so terribly depressing that it kept me from stepping into a clothing store for the next 4 years. I finally broke my fast when I realized I had nothing to wear for Kid’s birthday party 2 years ago. That little trip was everything I had expected it to be. The anxiety, frustration, disappointment, etc. At one point, Brother thought something had happened to me in there. Apparently, I’d been trying clothes on for 4 whopping hours, and he had searched all over the store for me. Of course by then, I’d run myself ragged with that darned chant about fitting and swearing… I mean not swearing like swearing, but swearing it would fit… well, maybe a little swearing swearing. Brother showed great compassion and patience that day (or it might have been the two beers he had while waiting, dunno). Too bad there isn’t a group for things like this… you know, like to ease us back into the shopping way… or at least prevent an episode of running and screaming from the changing rooms of any miscellanous clothing store…

Anyways, I was reminded of all this because…. *drumroll please*… I very carefully tried on my college jeans… and they fit!!!!! Yeh!!!! Of course I can’t sit in them, eat in them, or breathe in them, but THAT’S OK!! I’m just happy they wanted to fraternize with my hips at all!