Dressing


The dress a crimpy grey, it would suffice. It wasn't something I was crazy about, but it'd do. 

Photo by Micheile Henderson on Unsplash

As I clicked "Add to Cart," I had to push down the fact that the dress was an "L." The last thing I wanted was for it to be too snug, but I didn't like the fact that I had just been labeled an "L."

When it arrived, it fit well, even a bit bulgy. There were a couple parts I needed adjusted though, so I asked my neighbor, the expert seamstress. I dressed so she could assess and as she tightened the corset the look on her face confirmed what I already knew: this doesn't flatter my figure.

In a second my mind went to

      The wedding is a week away 

      I need to lose weight

      Why did I eat that?

      This is stupid

      Why am I so fat?

But no. He drew me out of that sewer drain of condemnation, reminding me what's true.

This dress needs to change, not me.

I hesitated to my neighbor. 

"I don't think I like the way it looks," I motioned to my hips, "here."

"I agree..."

"What can you do?"

We brainstormed some ideas. An accent color here, a bit less there. Easy!

My entire life my body has been wrong. Too big, too fat, too much. Every article of clothing a test, and usually I do not pass. I have not passed the pretend test that actually means nothing.  

She altered the dress. It's good now. That dress needed to change. 


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