Today, the lovely Ledcat and I were headed for Kennywood. As I rushed around fretting about which tee shirt to wear, she shook her head and told me that I needed to shake out a little more of the straight woman in me and chill about clothing.
The straight woman comment aside, she's probably right. I spend waaaay to much time obsessing about how I look in what I wear. I am not a clotheshorse or fashionista by any stretch of the imagination. I simply buy tons of clothes hoping I'll magically find just the right outfit to make me look beautiful. My closets overflow so this year, I agreed to thin the herd when I changed out winter/summer stuff. I sent 7 bags to Goodwill.
I admit that I wear fat chick clothing ... long loose button down shirts over tank tops and tee shirts, pants with elastic discreetly tucked under belt loops and really large tee shirts. But no matter what I wear, I obsess that I look fat and unattractive.
Well, the truth is, I am fat. I gained 60 lbs when I took Prozac back in the early 90's (more on that some other time) and it has never come off. I am far more healthy psychologically speaking than I was at 21 and 130 lbs so it is a trade I wouldn't reverse. But the lesson just about everyone has driven into my head over the past 15 years is that fat = unattractive. I've heard it all ... you have such a pretty face, you would feel better, you could buy nicer clothing, I don't date fat chicks, blah, blah, fucking blah.
No one has ever asked why I went from a size 10 to a size 18. No one. It is not like I went on an all-butter cream diet for two years. I can only assume they jumped to conclusions or that they don't care. The reason doesn't matter; the outcome is all they see and all they assign value to.
And this morning, I could clearly see that I had lost sight of the why as well, focusing only on that oft-repeated message that fat = unattractive, unvalued, unwanted and unlovable. So against my impulse, I walked out of the house in the first tee shirt I grabbed from the closet.
Tomorrow? We'll see.
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I hate fat = lazy the most. That's the one I always dealt with. When I started Zoloft, my weight went higher than it had ever been. My "friends" at the time pointed fingers, accusing that I didn't care about myself anymore. They didn't mind that I was so unhappy I was sleeping my weeks away, but the chubbiness? That was a problem.
ReplyDeleteI've since become involved with coaching, which has made me completely comfortable with wearing mesh shorts and T's. Besides that, I have one or two favorite shirts that I know I look good in, and for now, that's what makes me happy.