| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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for my birthday Lavernis bought me two more sessions with Lonny. i'm going to need them after the banana splits last night. notice i wrote splits. that would be banana splits, plural. more than one banana split. homemade hot fudge and caramel sauce. whipped cream and strawberries and nuts and sprinkles. and mint chocolate chip, and chunky monkey, and raspberry chocolate truffle Godiva ice cream. three marachino cherries. so this is how it went down. i hurt my heel. well, it's just been hurting. my right heel and ankle, hurting for no good reason at all. and then i realized that it had been about 7 or 8 months since i bought new athletic shoes. that's a really long time, considering that i pound the hell out of them nearly every single day. i should change my athletic shoes at least every 3 to 4 months, because the cushions break down and then my feet and joints hurt. not good. they get a beating as it is. saturday morning after yoga i went to The Mall to go to The FootLocker to buy The Adidas Running Shoes or whatever else was soft and light and On Sale. i passed by The Banana Republic and thought to myself Self, wouldn't it be nice to get something fancy to wear to your birthday party? and i answered, Self, you are so right, so right. you are thirty years old. do it in style. Style? Not at The Banana Republic. i cruised through and saw some nice stuff and, i mean, their clothes are fine, classic even. if you're careful you could buy something there that wouldn't be overly trendy and could last you a few years. some of it i would even call fancy. but Style? nah. The Banana Republic sells Canned Functional Cookie Cutter Tragically Hip Attitude clothing, which is fine for your day to day over priced looked, but not for turning Thirty. oh well, i thought. no big deal. just get the gym shoes and get the fuck out of The Mall. and then i passed by Cinnamon Girl. it's a local clothing store. actually, it's a dress shop. all dresses. i've never shopped there before. never considered it really. i don't wear too many dresses. i'm more of a shorts or skirts and t-shirt girl. i like dresses, but they don't occur to me often. not to mention that most - not all, but most - of the dresses in Cinnamon Girl are better suited for, well, small women. the sizes run a little narrow, as opposed to my ass, which regrettably never has run little narrow. i slowed down as i walked by the display window. so many dresses, nothing but dresses, and so much color; a swirl of dresses, and i couldn't focus on just one. all different styles, fabrics, colors, patterns, price ranges. fancy, casual, flowery, solid, cotton, silk, rayon, velvet, linen, frilly, plunging, classy, slutty, loose, tight, old, young. and every single one looked pretty. the cuts and styles were unique. i got sucked in. the sales girl approached me right away. "Can I help you find something?" "Yes. I'm going to a birthday party on Wednesday and I'd like to wear a fancy dress. Do you have any fancy dresses?" i didn't have a moment to browse or even touch a rack. she showed me to a dressing room and started bringing in dresses, roughly 20 to 30 of them. they were all great. most of them were not great on my body, but they were great dresses nonetheless, and i fell in love with several of them. i narrowed my choice down to three that i thought i could get away with. two were strap dresses, and the other had small, just off the shoulder cap sleeves. the strap dresses were a little... how do you say... low cut? maybe if my chest was smaller, i could have worn one of the strap dresses more comfortably. it's not that they didn't fit, but i wasn't going for the Hey Everyone Check Out These Hooters look. which is how i felt in them, even though they were very nice dresses, almost conservative in color and cut. i was going for the I'm Thirty and Young and Fabulous and Classy look. so i chose the barely sleeved dress, which in addition to being totally beautifully light blue and flowery and classy, the cut of the dress is as if it specifically had been designed for my figure, ghetto booty and all. well, almost. the only thing stopping me from being totally sold on the dress was that i couldn't get it to lay quite right. there was a little pucker in the back. the shoulders fell a little off-center. something about the bodice didn't feel quite right. almost, almost, it was almost there. the dress really wanted to fit me, it wanted to look perfect, it wanted to hug my shape. but it didn't quite. i pulled and twisted and tucked and pulled some more, moving the dress this way and that, walking and bending in it, trying to figure out what the deal was. and then something occured to me. i called the sales girl over. "Could you do me a favor?" I asked her. "Sure," she said. "Can you get me this dress in a Medium?" "I'll see if I can find one." she brought the dress and I held it up in front of me. i laughed aloud. yeah right, i thought. girl, you are dreaming if you think you're going to get your rear end into that dress *and* get it zipped up. all of the other dresses i stepped into, but this one i knew i couldn't do that, so i slipped it on over my head. so far so good. i adjusted the shoulders, the bust, the length, and then reached around behind me and grabbed the zipper. up it went. easy. no problem. i wiggled around and the dress fell perfectly into place. size Medium. there's a much bigger difference between a size Large and a size Medium, not in terms of amount of fabric, but it terms of psychology. it's the nomenclature. i'm not Large, i'm not Small. i'm Medium. i'm average... wonderously, gloriously average. and it's not that who i am is defined by the size of my dresses. i was happy as a Large. i was happy as an Extra Large even. but being average, while not meaningful, is comforting to my psyche. nobody can say that i'm fat. not pudgy, chunky, or Could Lose A Few Pounds. nope, that's not me anymore. now i am totally average. i wish i didn't care, but i do. it's not the package i care about though. i'm not a package, i'm a process. it's all about being able to change and becoming something different, growing older and growing better. and you know what? i looked great in that dress last night. i looked great and i felt great. i got six inches cut off my hair, i made a necklace and matching earrings to go with it, i'm fucking 30 years old and i am so fired up about being average. |
(and your bust, and your booty, but hey, I'm a stupid guy, right?) you look nice very nice |
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