...but how do we learn to believe it? Today as I put on a brand new pair of jeans I smiled, simply because they didn’t have a hole in the knee. Then I looked in the mirror, turned around, and thought about how much I dislike shopping for clothes. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the feeling of finding and buying the “perfect” shirt/pants/outfit. But the rarity of that feeling is often frustrating and sometimes exhausting. Okay, so back to me looking in the mirror (for the record: I’m not narcissistic). I smiled at the fit of the jeans until I turned around when reality struck me right in the tush. I could not wear these jeans or any jeans without a belt. WHY did I not buy a new belt!? (Oh, they’re not cheap or any easier to buy) Either my butt was too big (which I honestly don’t think it is) or I didn’t have enough lower back fat (which since I’m being honest I’ll say that was perfectly fine with me!!)
What I have accepted, and believe me when I say it was a process and took time, when I say time I mean years: my size varies. Yes, I can still look in the Juniors department, but I must look at least one size bigger and upon entering the dressing room I must expect the pants not to rise above my mother-of-two hips. When shopping in a store where there is only a “women’s” side I have accepted that two pairs of jeans sitting right next to/on top of each other will not fit the same, I have to try each piece of clothing on before buying.
I love being a woman, being a man comes with another list of stressors, many that I’m sure I’m not even aware of. But when it comes to buying clothes, I am envious of men (and women although I don’t know of any) who are able to walk in a store, pick clothes off a hanger and never even look for a dressing room before heading for the cashier.
So when are our daughters old enough to begin teaching them that size is but a number and it’s the comfort of the clothes we wear that is more important? RIGHT NOW! I mean it, right now….if you are reading this blog and have a daughter USE IT to motivate you to have the conversation. Immediately after putting on my jeans, and before the belt, I called my daughter into my room and told her the surprising news that the skirt she was wearing (for the second day in a row) was a size 3! Not a 4 or 5. (Did I mention she’s four years old? :o) Then I proceeded to tell her that it wasn’t the size that mattered, that as girls we always have to try on our clothes before buying them and make sure they are comfortable. Yes, she looked at me confused, but it was less judgmental than I imagine her looking at me in ten years.
My hope is that she doesn’t have to remember this conversation in detail, not because it wasn’t important, but because we’ll have it many more times throughout the years to come.
As for size 0…that’s an opinion for another time. Or maybe not. I’ll keep it short and to the point. I don’t think there should be a size 0, there never was when I was younger, but that’s not my point here. Simply put: I don’t think any girl or woman should strive to be nothing.
I also apologized to her today for inevitably going through menopause when she’s a teenager.
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