Untitled

Or untilted, which is what I almost wrote.

Today I decided to wear the size 18 black skirt from Talbots that I bought two weeks ago. It's a little big. I'm not sure why, but I thought it was going to take me through the summer. Hmm. Last night I tried on a black dress I've had for a long time, but only worn a few times. It's sleeveless (a touchy issue for me) and very plain, just buttons straight down the front. It falls into the Sicilian Widow category (I have lots of those; I like the Sicilian Widow look) and I was hoping to get some use out of it this summer. It's too big. It looks like a tent. It makes me, in turn, look like a house, or an installation by Christo, which is not really the look I'm going for.

Which brings me to my real point, I think. Wear clothes that fit. I remember reading Scruples for the first time (a great book, that hinges on weight loss and a woman's perception of herself) and the lines "She became one of the few women who really understood fit" lodged in my head. I probably don't understand fit on a profound level, but sewing helps. Having a critical eye helps. Wearing clothes that are the right size are always going to make you look better. I could wear that dress, indeed I could. It's not indecent, or gapping at the buttons, or anything else, but it's not flattering. My skirts that hang off me are not flattering. My really cool leather jacket, that I got so many compliments on, is no longer flattering, being at least two, possibly three, sizes too big.

It is still very strange, losing weight, even though I've slowed down somewhat. I'm not quite as dislocated as I was, not quite as thrown for a loop, but still, things like trying on that dress, are odd. I can honestly say, at this moment in time, I feel thin. I know that I am not by any estimation, thin, but I FEEL thin. The peculiar things are these, though: I will soon be thinner. So, if I'm thin now, what will I be then? Also, I've been thinner than this. I've been thinner than this and felt fat, in fact, as I was passing through this weight, this stage, on the way up. And what happens when I am truly thin? Or at least slender? Or some word that I will find at that point that will adequately describe how I feel? I assume, actually, that the same thing that happens now will happen then. I will have some clothes that make me look amazing. I will have some clothes that will not actively make people want to throw rocks at me. I will have some "what was I thinking?" clothes--though hopefully fewer, since I hope that I'm getting smarter. I will have fat days and thin days, hungry days and days where I don't care as much. I will be me, in other words, just on a smaller scale? Yes? Can I hope for that?

You know, I'm not looking for a miracle cure here, or a miracle of any kind. I'm not even really looking for a lot of compliments (though I wouldn't mind a few, here and there). I suppose it will be nicer to fit better in an airline seat. The seat in the car is not exactly problematic, but sometimes I feel as though I don't quite fit in it right--not that I don't fit, just that I can't find the right spot. Smaller clothes...I will like having more choice, that much is true.

I like that I can walk longer. I like that I can walk from the basement to the upstairs and not want to die. I like that I fit through smaller spaces. I like all of those things. So I guess those are good things to like, because those are the things that really endure.

Elle magazine this month has a lot of stuff about body image. Two articles resonated with me. One was by a young woman who lost 80 pounds, and got gorgeous, but had surgery for breast implants (to fill what was left after the weight left) and to remove loose skin. I am thinking, already, about the loose skin issue. Not too sure it's going to be an utterly enormous problem--I seem to be shrinking okay, or as well as can be expected at 51. I wouldn't mind a tummy tuck when I'm done, and Al seems to think it's in the realm of reason, so that's okay. But the article, written by the young woman herself, raised a lot of questions about what is the body, how do we feel, what does it feel like to lose weight, etc, etc, etc, all things I'm writing about here--but seemingly less cogently and trenchantly. Oh well. The other article was by a man, and it dealt with how mercilessly women despise their own bodies, and how they drag men into it with them. This is the thing that I have tried studiously to avoid. I will never ask a man if something makes me look fat. Ever. If I have to ask, it probably does, and, further, don't I own a mirror? I don't indulge in beating myself up. The furthest I will go is to say that I have no waist, or maybe no hips, depending on your point of view, that I have a flat ass, when I'm thinner, and that I wish my stomach were flatter. Does this put a blight on my life? No. I will also cheerfully tell you that i think I have very pretty eyes, pretty great hair, good skin (because I had the sense to stay out of the sun) and dynamite legs, hence all the high heels. I will also tell you that although I get my share of men who talk to my chest, I feel I have quantity, not quality. These are all statements of fact. I don't think that any of those things make me less worthy as a person, I think that they influence my choices of clothing and shoes. Period. And, besides, to quote Scarlet Johansson (as I think I already have), some fellows like me.

Reading that article makes me understand, though, why, despite the fact that I am essentially melting before his eyes, M has made next to no comment on this fact. I think the poor man is afraid of his life if he opens his mouth. I thought that before, to be honest, but I really think it now. I think that he has no experience at all with a woman who genuinely likes herself, at whatever weight, or is at least trying to like herself at whatever weight.

It's my little contribution, liking myself. Someone has to lead the way, and I'm only half tongue-in-cheek about that. I don't let my daughters beat up on themselves, at least not in my hearing. They may do that on their own time, but I don't think so, really.

So. Let's see. I don't think I came up with any really new themes here, just rehashes of old ones, but they bear repeating: wear clothes that fit. Love your body, because you reside in it; without your body, there is no you. And love YOURSELF, because you are you.

I remember reading once (and this was roughly 9,000 years ago, in Seventeen, back when it had actual articles, not just sound bites) that if you wished for something that some other girl had, you had to take her whole life with it. So, if you wanted long blonde hair, like Allison Barnett (who is showing up here with some regularity, I might have to deal with what she meant to me) you had to have everything else. Except Allison had one of those charmed lives, so she might not be a very good example. But you understand what I mean. So, if you want to be that woman next to you at whatever function you're at, if you want her perfect size 6 body, or her toned legs, or whatever thing it is that you're coveting at the moment, you have to take it all. You have to take her mother that wasn't/isn't very nice to her, you have to take the fact that she has no imagination or can't sing, you have to take her massive credit card debt and the fact that her husband tells all and sundry that he hates her. Suddenly that makes you, whoever you are, with all your lumps, bumps and sterling qualities, look like someone worth being.