Not too long ago – although it feels like eons ago – I had the very rare (more like once-in-a-mom’s-lifetime) opportunity to go clothes shopping with two close friends. I walked through a clothing store full of beautiful garments, vibrant colors, and varicolored fabrics that looked as if they were spun from Nepalese saris and were as soft as clouds to the touch. Each of my friends and I wandered around the store on our own, sifting through all the beauty. Then we reconvened in the dressing rooms where we participated in a fashion show for one another.
We ended up trying on some of the same things, and something struck me (other than the fact that there was no need to rush in the dressing room because my friends weren’t going to throw a tantrum or have an accident): We all had uniquely shaped bodies and what looked lovely and flattering on one of us ended up looking just okay on someone else. If I had been alone and had witnessed some stranger waltz out looking like Aphrodite while trying on something that I had just discarded to the “Definitely NOT” pile on the account that it looked like a trash bag on me, I probably would have immediately looked at my own body in disgust and blamed it for its inferiority to that other woman’s body. But not during this particular shopping trip. Maybe it’s because I love my friends, and I know they unconditionally love me. Maybe it’s because I see my friends as beautiful and in their presence, I feel good about myself and what I have to offer to our friendship. Whatever the reason, it was really enlightening for me that as I slipped into myriad clothing – some that looked good on me and others not so much – I didn’t blame my body for not looking as nice in that flowy kimono top as it did on my super petite friend. Nor did I get upset when I saw a dress that immediately brought Sir Mix A Lot to mind when I tried it on (I like big butts and I cannot lie. Forgive me for quoting Sir Mix A Lot), look quite flattering and modestly chic on my lovely, athletic friend. There was nothing wrong with any of our bodies; they were just different. And if something didn’t look quite right on one us, it wasn’t our fault or our flesh’s fault – it was the cut of the dress or the shirt that just didn’t work for us.
A few years ago I needed a dress for a cousin’s wedding. I found a beautiful coral dress with what I thought would be a flattering cut. I ordered the dress in two sizes. When the package arrive at my doorstep, I could not wait to try it on. I knew coral was a good color for my complexion and the dress had looked so perfect in the catalog. I tried on my typical size and discovered that the dress hugged my Sir Mix A Lot (sorry again) bum way too tightly. Ugh. Yet, the top portion of the dress looked perfect on me, and it really was such a pretty color – the shade of a fiery sunset. Well, surely the bigger size will fit right. Indeed, it did fit my bum just fine, but it hung way too low on top, and I immediately began to lament my mismatched curves. I have the derrière of an hourglass but the top of an isoceles triangle. I tried the dress on for my mom and my husband. They didn’t feel it was flattering on my figure either, but they blamed the cut of the dress whereas I cursed my figure. I also tried the dress on in front of my oldest daughter who just happened to be in my bedroom when I decided to engage in another ritual of self-punishment.
“That dress is too tight on your bottom, Mommy!” she exclaimed as I examined my rear side in the full-length mirror.
I smiled and nodded. And heroically held back the tears as I slipped out of the dress silently, once again, cursing my body.
Later when a friend asked me if I’d found a dress for the wedding, I recounted the horror of trying on those two dresses, but something slipped out of my lips that I hadn’t realized at the time as being the truth. “There was something wrong with those dresses. They’re just not cut for women with a strong backside or any curves on the bottom.” Sure, the model had looked good in the dress but other than the fact that she was probably in her twenties, she was also built in a straight line. There was nothing wrong with her figure, and the dress was cut just right for her. But there was nothing wrong with my figure either, and the dress really and truly was not made for someone with my natural proportions.
But so often we women blame ourselves when something doesn’t fit right or look good on us. Or we buy jeans that are a tad too tight with a promise to ourselves that we will work harder and go Paleo (again) so that the jeans will fit in a month or two. Then we spend the next month fantasizing about doing a million crunches and the day the jeans hang loosely on our body while berating ourselves for the fact that the jeans still don’t fit. We should never buy anything for the “someday” when we will be five, ten, 20 pounds thinner. We shouldn’t buy for the day when that tiny tummy bulge vanishes and the LBD hugs our bodies in all the right places. We can’t buy for the fantasy. We have to buy for the reality.
I’ve also noticed that sometimes I am afraid to buy a really beautiful piece of clothing, and it’s not just its price tag that might be deterring me. So instead I buy a bunch of loose, cheap clothing because at some level I think that this aging, mom-body of mine doesn’t deserve something beautiful. I don’t want to mess up the white sheath dress that fits me just right with all of my gunk (and, yes, the gunk that comes with being a mom to little, messy kids). Maybe I finally convince myself to buy the dress, but then I relegate it to the dark recesses of my closet only to be worn when I feel worthy of its style and delicacy. That’s rubbish. Why not pull out the dress for Mass or brunch with family? Don’t save things for a rainy (or thinner, more beautiful) day. Don’t live to look good – live to feel good. That starts from the inside out. How has hating your body or even just a part of your body (your flat chest, your scrawny arms, your tubby tummy, your big thighs) ever gotten you anywhere? If something doesn’t fit right, blame the clothes, not your natural design. Buy and wear clothes for the life you’re living, not the fantasy life you hope to one day lead or the life you once lived when you were, let’s say, 20. Be realistic with yourself and your figure. Treat yourself with kindness. And remember life is a lot be a lot like a good dress. A dress doesn’t wear you. You wear the dress. A life isn’t meant to be wasted or held hostage for the day things magically change. A life is meant to be lived. So brave those florescent, dressing room lights. Bring a friend if it helps you to see the uniqueness of the human form and to appreciate your own body. Keep searching for the right dress, the great pair of jeans, the feminine midi skirt that is right for your beautiful body. Surround yourself in beauty every day, and know that you are absolutely, unabashedly worthy of it all.
Beautiful post. Thanks — those are words every woman needs to hear!
Thank you for reading, Martha, and I agree that we all need this reminder every once in awhile. It’s amazing (and frustrating!) to me that I still occasionally struggle with my body image, but unfortunately, I know I’m not alone. We women must build each other up and appreciate the diversity of the human form.
At any rate, thanks for commenting and stopping by my sorely neglected blog!
This conversation is pretty much on infinite loop Chez Currie.
“Look at this cute dress from Title Nine!”
“That would look like a potato sack on you.”
“ARE YOU CRITICIZING MY BODY?!”
“What? No! I’m criticizing the dress. That dress is designed to flatter a woman with a squarish frame.”
“ARE YOU CRITICIZING WOMEN WITH SQUARISH FRAMES?!?”
“What? No! Find me one and I’ll her she should buy that dress!”
… after twenty years in my adult body, you’d think I’d learn what flatters it…
I am still learning, Lyd. As for the dresses in Title Nine, I always think they look so cute, but I also suspect they wouldn’t work for my body. At least not until I develop the shoulders and biceps of She-Ra. :-)
This is exactly where I am right now, as my body heads towards menopause and has gone through a big transformation in the last year. I’m trying to embrace this school of thought. I’ve been slowly cleaning out my closet of all those “maybe again, someday” clothes that I haven’t worn in over a year. I finally signed up for Stitch Fix, putting in my ACTUAL size information, instead of waiting to do it until I lost those pesky pounds that have crept. My first box came and NOTHING fit right – and my first reaction was to bemoan my body. I put in the information about why I wasn’t keeping the clothes, and then my 2nd box came. And everything fit perfectly and was SO flattering! Because I was honest about what I needed to fit my shape, rather than fighting it. We can all be cute and fashionable when we embrace our own shape and dress it accordingly! You always hit the nail on the head, my friend!
Hi, Kris. I was annoyed with Stitch Fix this month because I’ve requested shorts twice now, and my stylist – whom I don’t blame at all; she’s working with what she’s got – told me there has been a shortage (no pun intended) of shorts. However, overall I have to agree with you that the service has actually helped me to respect my body more and to not blame my shape for when something fits me the wrong way. In fact, before you even commented I had written a draft of a post that addresses this very topic! I’m so glad it’s working out for you, beautiful friend! xoxo
Thanks for the advice. Great post.
Marilyn
You’re welcome! This is actually a post from my archives that accidentally was published again while my web developer was doing some tweaks, but I had two new comments so I figure it needed to be put out there again! :-)
Great blog! Every woman should read it before she goes shopping