I Found the Sneakers, and the Fat-Thin Fantasy
I found the sneakers. They have black stripes, not silver, but they are super comfortable and exactly the look I was going for. My mom and I went on one of our famous "quests," hitting up a TJ Maxx in another town in search of the shoes. And like so many times before, we were successful. Until we started to drive out of the parking lot and realized we had a completely flat tire. My father was called, yet proved useless in this situation, claiming he hadn't changed a tire in 20 years. So we call Triple A and walked over to a nearby Starbucks to wait. They arrived much more quickly than we'd expected, so I had to chase after my mom who had broken into a run back to the car, coffee in hand. When I relayed the conversation with my dad to the extremely nice mechanic, he told me to tell my dad that "the same rules still apply" from 20 years ago. Once we had the spare on and got in the car, my mom immediately asked if we should continue on to another TJ Maxx to look for a silver-striped pair of sneakers. When my mom is on a quest, she is unstoppable. I laughed and suggested we head home on the little donut-tire instead, but since then, I can't say the thought of hitting another TJ's hasn't crossed my mind. Frequently. And this is the point where I start to wonder about my mild hoarding tendencies with clothes: my propensity for buying multiples. I rationalize this behavior with my capsule wardrobe mentality: I'm very selective, and I wear clothes more frequently, so I should stock up for when they wear out. To some extent this is extremely practical. I often long for items I've loved that have acquired holes and are beyond repair. You can never find them again- they always change the style or just discontinue them completely and you're left misty-eyed and pining for that perfect T-shirt or pair of shoes. So my secret obsession has set in with these sneakers. I think about them several times a day, arguing the pros and cons in my head. Buying a second pair means I have a backup- and since these are pretty cheaply-made shoes, that seems justified. But oftentimes my tastes change and I'm left with multiples, tags still attached, and end up selling them on Ebay for less than I paid originally. The other consideration is that maybe it's good to leave the possibility for something new to come into my wardrobe. Maybe I'll find something I like even better, and my backups will just be cast aside. I'm really on the fence in this case after my failed attempts at online shoe-shopping. Another factor in all this has often been my fluctuating weight. While less of an issue with shoes, I've often been left with multiples that never got worn because my weight changed dramatically. And when my weight changes, often my style changes too. Historically, when I've gained weight, I've gone for drapier, stomach-camouflaging styles. And when I've lost weight, I've gone for more feminine, tighter-fitting, more objectifying styles. It's strange that no matter how firm my feminist convictions seem to be, when I "pass as thin," I fall into that trap of dressing in more revealing clothing, despite my true preferences. I dress in clothing that is typically pleasing to men, that simultaneously dilutes my personhood. There's an exercise in Overcoming Overeating by Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol Munter where these types of clothing associations are explored. It's called the Fat-Thin Fantasy. First you are to imagine yourself growing larger, very fat, and really try to feel what that would be like. Then imagine where you are- where do you see yourself? What are you doing? What are you wearing? How do people see you, and you them? While at first you may see the situation as obviously negative: dark, baggy clothes, isolating yourself, appearing very serious, etc., you can eventually see positives in the situation. How is this situation serving you? Maybe it allows you some much-needed privacy, some longed-for solitude, some groundedness, some respect from people for your ideas and not your body. Perhaps there are perfectly good reasons for wanting to be fat. And then the exercise asks the reverse: imagine yourself getting very thin, smaller and smaller, until you really feel in your body what that would be like. And at first, all you can see are the positives- getting attention, wearing sexy clothes, being very social, laughing and chatting casually. But eventually, when you look deeper, you can often find negatives to being thin. Perhaps you feel vulnerable, childlike. Perhaps you feel overwhelmed by sexual attention, valued only for what you look like and not for who you are. And you find that thinness is not necessarily all it's cracked up to be. These hidden meanings are significant for me in my struggle with my weight. And when I'm thin, I inevitably find myself tempted to objectify myself, even though that's not what I want. And perhaps I eat more and grow fat in part to prevent this phenomenon. I gain weight to be taken seriously and as an excuse to be anti-social. And so this time around, as I lose weight, I'm trying to promise myself that even when I'm thin, I will maintain my integrity. I will wear men's pants and boots. I will allow myself privacy and solitude. Just because I'll be thin, I won't be required to be sexy or social or even happy. I won't need to be fat to hide. I'll still be a complete person, still be allowed all of my moods and complexities. I'll stay me.
These two books are amazing:
