02/26/2011 22:50
I'm too fat for Lane Bryant.
Today was not a good day. I foolishly decided that I needed new bras and went shopping. Never go shopping when you are already depressed, no matter how good the sales are. Ever.
I'm a big girl. I always have been. I can remember in Middle School why I was always bigger than everyone else in my class. Why was I cursed with being fat? Why didn't I have the body of the cute cheerleaders? Why didn't anyone have a crush on me? The psychological trauma goes on and on.
The only point in my life when I was truly happy with my weight was when I graduated High School and went to college. For some reason, I begin to shrink without trying. It was amazing. Perhaps running across campus did it. Perhaps it was the fact I never had time to sit down and really eat. I was a size 12. That is the smallest I've ever been.
Over the past 12 years of marriage, I have slowly grown to gargantuan proportions. I'm 5'2". I weigh 319.6 pounds (that is, when I can get the scale to stop flashing ERROR at me). I wear a size 5x or a 30-32.
And I'm too fat for Lane Bryant.
I didn't think I could hate myself any more than I already did, but today disproved that.
I fled the store, trying not to cry. I was curt with the nice sales lady and felt bad about it. I just didn't want to break down in front of all the other much skinnier people in there.
When I reached the car, my husband asked, "You didn't find anything you liked?"
Yea. That was it. I didn't like trying to squeeze into a bra two sizes too small because they didn't carry the size I really needed. I didn't like being out of breath after trying on three bras. I didn't like not being able to get my fat arms into the loops. I didn't like feeling suffocated when I finally got one closed. I especially didn't like the way my boobs looked in a C cup when I really only need a B, but can never find a B in the larger sizes I need.
I cried all the way home. Two Little Debbie Swiss Rolls and a McDonald's coke later and I was feeling well enough to climb into bed and sleep away the depression. I stopped here first to write this all down so I'll have something to beat myself up over later.
Something has to change.
I have to change.
We'll see how it goes.
For now, I'm going to bed.
I'm a big girl. I always have been. I can remember in Middle School why I was always bigger than everyone else in my class. Why was I cursed with being fat? Why didn't I have the body of the cute cheerleaders? Why didn't anyone have a crush on me? The psychological trauma goes on and on.
The only point in my life when I was truly happy with my weight was when I graduated High School and went to college. For some reason, I begin to shrink without trying. It was amazing. Perhaps running across campus did it. Perhaps it was the fact I never had time to sit down and really eat. I was a size 12. That is the smallest I've ever been.
Over the past 12 years of marriage, I have slowly grown to gargantuan proportions. I'm 5'2". I weigh 319.6 pounds (that is, when I can get the scale to stop flashing ERROR at me). I wear a size 5x or a 30-32.
And I'm too fat for Lane Bryant.
I didn't think I could hate myself any more than I already did, but today disproved that.
I fled the store, trying not to cry. I was curt with the nice sales lady and felt bad about it. I just didn't want to break down in front of all the other much skinnier people in there.
When I reached the car, my husband asked, "You didn't find anything you liked?"
Yea. That was it. I didn't like trying to squeeze into a bra two sizes too small because they didn't carry the size I really needed. I didn't like being out of breath after trying on three bras. I didn't like not being able to get my fat arms into the loops. I didn't like feeling suffocated when I finally got one closed. I especially didn't like the way my boobs looked in a C cup when I really only need a B, but can never find a B in the larger sizes I need.
I cried all the way home. Two Little Debbie Swiss Rolls and a McDonald's coke later and I was feeling well enough to climb into bed and sleep away the depression. I stopped here first to write this all down so I'll have something to beat myself up over later.
Something has to change.
I have to change.
We'll see how it goes.
For now, I'm going to bed.