I'm more than a number

Recently I went shopping for the second time since being in recovery.  My wonderful husband came with me, but even with his support I struggled a lot.  

Before I went into recovery I was at a normal weight and I was always terrified (still am terrified) of gaining weight because if I'm already at a normal weight I shouldn't gain weight, right?  

Wrong.  

I can't say whether anyone in recovery will gain weight or not, it really depends on each individual.  My body is figuring out where it needs to be.  Unfortunately where my body needs to be is very different from where I want my body to be.  There are certain clothing that don't fit anymore and a part of me feels like a huge failure.

It wasn't until this last shopping trip that I realized how sick I really was.  I'm not going to use numbers because I don't want to trigger anyone so I'll use letters.  For a long time I was size X, but after trying on clothes I'm now size Z and it's totally messing with my head.  BUT!  I have to put it into perspective that naturally my body is size Z and I went to extreme measures for years to make sure I was a size X.

I seriously cried after shopping because I felt so disgusting.  I felt like I let myself go, that everyone can tell I've gained weight and that everyone is judging me for it.  This week was really tough, but the more distance I had from my nightmare shopping experience the more I could detach myself from the nightmare.  

I now can appreciate my new clothes because they're comfortable and they look good.  I even got a compliment when I wore my new dress pants.  Even though I shouldn't worry what others think it did prove something to me: nobody is keeping track of my weight or my clothing size.  My coworker didn't say anything about the size of my pants or ask me how much I weigh, she simply gave me a compliment of her own freewill.

I still need to add to my wardrobe, but I'm not as scared to go shopping because I'm more than a number.

I have hips

A few years ago I went shopping with a friend.  My mission was to get nice black dress pants for work.  So we went to store after store not finding pants that were comfortable or fit or that I liked.  At last though, I found the pair of pants.  I showed my friend to see what she thought:

Wow, I didn't realize until now, but you have wide hips.

I said sadly, I know...

She said that is was a good thing because I'm a woman and women are supposed to have hips.

That didn't make me feel much better and I knew her intention was never to make my already low self esteem plummet even farther down the rabbit hole.

Years before this incident I was visiting Colombia with my dad.  We were staying with a friend of his who had a daughter around my age.  We went shopping and I had a mission: I wanted a skirt.  I love dresses and skirts, but I never seem to find the right fit for my curvy body.

There we are standing in one of the stores in a huge mall: my dad, his friend, his friend's daughter and me.  I didn't speak Spanish very well at that time, but as Laura asked the sales lady about skirts I knew enough Spanish to know that "ancho" means wide.  The sales lady was looking me over and speaking too fast and putting her hands on her hips...that Spanish word I will never forget.  Ancho.  

Yes, thank you very much, I'm very well aware that I have hips and that I'm curvy.  Only a select few people don't define me as curvaceous, but the rest of the population seem to have to come to the same conclusion: I have hips and I'm curvy.

Some people make curvy look hot, but if I ever try the styles I see work on other beautiful ladies I'm looking back at a disaster in the mirror.  Why does it work for them and not me?  I can't do thin right and I can't do curvy right.  I'm in some weird limbo that nobody makes clothes for.

I haven't gone shopping in a long time.  I know I'm not ready to expose myself to all the different clothing sizes and pictures of happy-go-lucky models wearing the clothes I want to try on, but seeing their long, flowing limbs I know this might not go well.

Last night I was talking with the costumer who I'm working with for this most recent show.  We talked about all different kinds of topics and it landed on it matters how you look in theatre.  Of course that hit home because I know that I don't look right for theatre.  I sometimes pass for "white," but with my brown eyes, black hair and a very light hint of "something" in my pigment I don't stand a chance against the other "American" girls.  I mentioned to her it doesn't help that I'm curvy too and that did it for her.  She became so passionate about making me see that I'm gorgeous, that my body is perfect just the way it is.  I almost wanted to start crying because I could feel those words like I've never felt before.

Thank you, Sharon.  I'm filing away your wonderful words to repeat to myself when I'm having a rough day or I think my hips are too wide.