I'm Afraid I've Made a Terrible Mistake

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Here’s a tip: Don’t try on clothes that you know full well are too small for you. It makes you feel bad about yourself and it makes you want to eat. I made this mistake yesterday, supposedly in preparation for our upcoming trip to Germany. I pulled out the infamous bin of storage clothes that has been whittled down to only clothes that fit me when I am 160 lbs. or less. Right now, I am 176.8 lbs (as of my last weigh-in). Somehow I ignored this not-so-little discrepancy and just hoped for the best. I was looking specifically for two things: some black joggers (2 pairs) and a bunch of sweaters.

The first things I pulled out were the joggers, fully expecting them to fit (they have an elastic waist, after all). But they were too tight to breathe in, never mind sit down in. This was a bit of a blow: I was kind of counting on them as fall/winter pants since my linen ones will not be warm enough as it gets colder. Then, randomly, I tried on a bra. I’ve started wearing real bras lately, but the ones I have are pretty big on me. They’re comfortable and everything, but there’s some pretty significant empty space happening. So I tried on one of the smaller bras, and it resulted in the double-boob effect we all know and loathe, so those went back into the box.

I tried to stay focused: I’m looking at sweaters. I started with a light-grey, pointelle-sleeve, open cardigan and it actually worked well. I knew there were things in there that I could pull off. Then there was a camel J. Crew cardigan. This gave me sort of a hunchback look, so that was a no-go. I shook it off. There was a black, boxy, supersoft pullover that fit really well, and a blush, boxy, cotton pullover that looked pretty good and could inject some much-needed lighter color into my wardrobe. So I brought those two out with the grey cardigan, but was put off by the smell. Somehow they’d started smelling like thrift store in a subtle way. So I’m currently washing them one-by-one and flat-drying them so I can add them to my capsule.

Then things got a little weird: I put on my beloved asymmetric blouson-style Vince cashmere sweater, but it looked funny with my baggy jeans. So I put on my black skinny jeans, and we were right back to the negative self-talk that inevitably starts every time I wear skinny jeans. Like how I look like a tomato on a stick and whatnot. But since I’m kind of desperate for pants right now, I blamed it on the sweater and put it away. I revisited the pink cashmere sweater from the other day and rejected it again. It’s not really too small, I think I just don’t like the neckline, so it may be destined for the discard pile. And lastly, I revisited the grey structured zip-up that fits but doesn’t work with the silhouette of my baggy men’s pants and belt. That one’s on the back-burner for future consideration as my pants situation solidifies.

And speaking of pants, I also happened to get both of my Ebay purchases in the mail yesterday. The jeans were not a success. They were tight. Like, really tight. Like when I buttoned them all the way up, my flesh spilled over the top, threatening to burst the seams. Now the jeans I’ve been wearing are a size 38 and are way too big, so how could these size 36s be so small? I measured the waist: 36 inches. Blerg. This means my current size 38s are much bigger than the tag says. I measured them: 40 inches. Apparently I should have done some measuring before I placed my order. I thought men were exempt from these random sizing discrepancies since they go by actual measurements instead of arbitrary numbers. I guess I was naive to think so. I tried on the grey, size 38, GEORGE pants and they’re perfect. They are literally identical to the size 40 ones I’ve been wearing; they just fit better. And when I measured them, they came up true to size: 38 inches. I guess I’m truly a 38.

I threw both new purchases into a warm wash and a low tumble-dry, taking them out before the jeans got too dried out. They were actually a little damp, so I put them on and thought maybe I would be able to stretch them out a bit. I squatted, I bent over, I curled into a ball on the bed. I lay like that for a while, watching YouTube, wiggling around. Then I ate lunch and really couldn’t take it anymore, so I took them off. I folded them and put them into the storage bin.

I suddenly felt ravenous. I ate a single-serving packet of Lorna Doones. I had two Coke Zeroes. I took a Klonopin. I lied down and said some affirmations: I am a worthy human being. The clothes may not fit, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with my body. My body is perfect as it is. I am a worthy human being. I put the storage bin back in the closet and called it a day.

And this is why this was a bad idea: I spent half my day making myself feel bad and then trying to recover from it. And all I have to show for it is a couple of sweaters and some pants. Now I know I needed that stuff, but why is it so hard to be honest with myself about my body? What’s so bad about where I am? Was this project purely about practicality and thrift? I don’t think so. I think I’m looking for validation, for reward for how far I’ve come. And the obvious source of that reward is fitting into my old clothes. Because it’s not just about the clothes; it’s about what they represent. I imagine that by wearing them, I’ll have the qualities I had when I wore them before- I’ll be energetic, enthusiastic, and profiting financially. But that’s not how it works. That’s a fantasy. I am where I am with my life. I’m making real progress, however slow and steady it may be. I just have to be patient and keep doing what I’m doing.