Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Clothing Sizes and Changing Rooms

I'm coming to a problem, that won't really seem like a problem to most people.

I've lost weight.  Now, I'm still grossly, morbidly obese - so my weight loss wouldn't be noticeable to most people.  However, the fit of my clothes is decidedly noticeable to me.  My jeans are all saggy-assed and likely to fall down, my dresses billow unbecomingly.  My panties fall down inside of my jeans and pool in my crotch.

(By the by, crotch is the filthiest word.  I hate it and love it all at once.)

Normally, the idea of getting new clothes is great.  Sort of.  I mean, there is the whole spending money thing.  However, buying new clothes in a smaller size - I mean, what lady can't get behind that.

However, my problem is that I don't like trying on clothes, and I have no idea what size I wear.

So, here are some options:

  • Buy clothes in three different sizes and take back the ones that don't fit
  • Measure myself meticulously and buy my clothes online after reading lots of reviews on fit
  • Eyeball the clothes at the store and get depressed at home when it doesn't fit
  • Don't buy clothes because I'm still losing weight
OK, so Trudy - why don't you just try on the clothes at the store?

That's a valid question.  I mean, why don't I?

Full length mirrors.  I keep them out of my house.  I know that a full-length mirror is supposed to be a girl's best friend and most honest critic, but when you already can't stand the sight of yourself you don't need the criticism. 

As is, I can barely stand the sight of myself dressed, let alone undressed in harsh lighting.  I don't need to see my dimples, stretch marks, and lumpy fat.  My mind already fills in the blanks sufficiently.

Marianne, of XOJane and Fatshionista fame, recently desensitized herself to the mirror's effect by forcing herself to look into it for some extended period per day.  Basically, it's like saying a word over and over again until it has no meaning and is just a collection of sounds.

Maybe I can turn my body into a collection of colors and shapes instead of the physical representation depression, disgust, and disease.

Maybe I can turn my body into a collection of sounds.  Echo, echo, echo.