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."
"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.