That day, I was out shopping with my friend because we were invited to a theme party (yes, another one… I went out a lot in my youth). The theme of the night: lingerie. I don’t need to tell you how anxious I was at the idea of showing some skin, of revealing my desirable and sexy side.
We had been to a good 7or 8 stores with no success. Obviously, my girlfriend with the perfect body found an outfit that fit her like a glove as soon as we got to the mall.
I was exhausted and quite frankly discouraged that I wasn’t able to find an outfit of my own for the night. Nothing fit!
Was it that time of the month? No.
Had I eaten too much? Of course not (who eats before they go shopping?!?!?)
I had to face the truth: I had gained weight… a lot of it. I no longer fit into so-called “normal” sizes.
In the fitting room, I sat on the tiny stool that felt like it would collapse under my weight, which had suddenly become unbearable.
And then, I cried.
I cried in silence in this fitting room, which was slowly starting to suffocate me.
I cried looking at my reflection in this mirror which magnified everything I didn’t like about myself: my hips, my belly, my thighs, my arms. Everything!
My girlfriend who was waiting for me outside didn’t understand why I was taking so long to try on a few pieces of clothing— she couldn’t grasp what I was going through. She couldn’t understand that I felt completely discouraged and crushed by the fact that I no longer wore the same size. That these few pounds had just ruined my life! I’m barely exaggerating! I didn’t know when or how I had put them on, but I would have done anything to lose them!
I was lying to myself, of course. I had been aware for months that I had let my waistline expand, eating my emotions, but I refused to believe it. This time, the extra pounds were determining my fate! Not only had I changed sizes, but I had to resign myself to the idea of entering plus-size clothing stores.
Come on, that’s impossible. Me… NEVER!
I would rather wear leggings every day until I lose the damn weight.
Finally, I didn’t go out that night… Instead, I ate my feelings.
