I’ve been thinking about this subject for two days. I t won’t shake off so I am going to have to do a post. Right, how do I give my feelings and thoughts on this topic any justice? Well, since I can remember I have always had that one piece of clothing to measure myself against to see if I am still thin or need to lose more weight. It started as young as the age of 5 years old. I have always been conscious of my body and my inability to live happily inside it. The time that it tipped into the‘warning! warning! flashing, red- lights danger zone, started with a ridiculous size of denim shorts that had the size 1 on the label.
NEVER LOSE SIGHT OF HOPE
I don’t know if this size was a U.K. / USA/ Mexican size or even a made up size. I had to fit into these shorts or else I thought my life would cease to mean anything. My life was only worthy of challenging myself and pushing myself to weigh less and less than I did at whatever moment. Over the years I’ve kept those jeans. Over 15 years. The travelled with me from South Africa to France to the US.A and then the U.K. As time went by and I became more accepting at living at a higher body weight; I found another item of clothing to size up my idea of what I deemed an-acceptable body. It is a play suit. If I try it on and it feels tight in the middle it freaks me out. How crazy is it when you consider that most women’s stomachs bloat throughout out the day and from week to week.
It doesn’t even matter what the scales say in these moments of despair and failure. The play suit has to be loose. I’ve been able to get rid of my teeny tiny shorts recently as this year ( A round of applause for me). However, I am not willing to give up the play suit. What I loathe most about this ridiculous and self esteem crunching obsession of mine, is I have a whole closet full of clothes that I could wear but if I’m having a ‘tight around the middle play suit’ day,I refuse to wear anything else but the play suit! Yes, it is true that these outfits can be used as a metaphor as to how I measure my self worth. I’m am working on being less obsessional, if only so I can I can wear different outfits and make more use out of the clothes I already have. It’s a good job fashion’ a la mode- does the full different era circuit, frequently. The moth balls get more of a show case than other people.
THIS IS ME CAMPAIGNING ABOUT EQUALITY AND DIVERSITY
These words don’t do justice.
It is 4 a.m. and I want to write something so profound and worthy of the POST BUTTON.Of course, on some level I know that I am worth more than an item of clothing. These days I do think more of myself in other contexts. I wish (oh here goes the whole regret bit) that it didn’t matter so much. This obsession has at times stopped me moving on with my life and going out and has made me cry and made me want to harm myself. It’s been the worst, poisonous partner I’ve had. It won’t stop haunting me. It has stopped me from trying to date guys. Isn’t it so bizarre how I can hand over so much power over an item of clothing?
My existence does mean more. I am a mother, a wife to be, a granddaughter, a daughter, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a cat owner, a woman, a human being. The mind is a cunning bastard at times. It taps into to those feelings of fat and thin. Lingering doubt and insecurity. It’s skeletal frame dance chillingly around me – around and around. Dizzy thoughts of‘you are not good enough’ ‘you can’t go out in that’ ‘you have failed to be a human’ ‘people will think you are fat’ ‘how dare you think of wearing anything else but the freaking play suit’.
It toys with me. Plays with me. At least I have made the piece of clothing relevant to what it does to me. It makes me introverted and unable to speak to others. I have that cartoon like storm cloud thundering over my head. Ruminating. All the time. The silver lining in all this is that these days I challenge my belief system and I make riskier choices with my clothes, I get out the house even though I want to hide away. I will continue to wear my lustrous battle of armour. What I won’t be doing is weighing myself when I have it on.. 🙂