Things were going well in Bex Land. I had an adventure at Torrid in Greensboro, NC while I was visiting for class and fell in love with an ensemble. I didn't purchase it in-store, but stole it for 20% off online with an additional 10% Cosmo coupon at the very end. Sweet victory.
Ordered laaaaate Tuesday evening, arrived on Saturday- fit crazy well. I felt fabulous. Size 18 (SKINNY!) jeans and a plaid top. Here I am in the store looking very perturbed indeed. I can't emphasize enough that these were SKINNY jeans. I have worn bootcut jeans before that were so tight on me that they could have passed for the skinny variety, but this was my first time wearing something fitted purposefully.
The top above is a size 2 (18-20 in real talk) but I ended up going with a size 1 (14-16) as I'm continuing to lose and was hoping to carry the look into the spring as well. The stretchiness of the denim fabric on the bottoms will make that an easy task in that department.
Once again... victory felt pretty sweet.
Today is Monday. I ventured out to clinical this morning in my 2X scrub bottoms and XL jacket/vest- both of which are way too big for me now, but I'm waiting for a scrub sale so I can go crazy and make out like a bandit at the same time. We'll call it a fall frugal frenzy, and we shall all rejoice at the amazingness of the alliteration. But for now, I'll look frumpy at work. No big whoop. For the afternoon, I drove my husband to class (he's gone back to school, I'm the sole income right now- switching to nightshift this week actually to cover our losses as the shift-dif will help SIGNIFICANTLY... but I digress) and did some homework at a local coffee shop that I used to frequent as an undergrad. I paired the plaid top with some denim knee-length shorts (size 18 but loose now- they were barely button-able back in September despite being the stretchy comfy denim we plus-size gals love) and my converses. I felt a little on the hip side, sipping my iced coffee, earbuds in, the Fighters of Foo providing a wonderful background to the steady sound of the click-click of my keyboard as I pounded out some discussion board postings and part of a paper. I was being productive. Productive = sexy. I. felt. sexy.
For the first time in my adult life, on both Saturday and earlier today, I felt super girly and cute. A (really cute thin) girl at a restaurant we visited on Saturday complimented my pink strip in my hair (an homage to National Breast Cancer Awareness Month... Nurse Bex says CHECK YO'SELF!) and my perfume. This doesn't happen. Ever. She looked clean cut and was very attractive, so I immediately ruled out "crack smoker" as a potential personality flaw resulting in the compliment. I exuded confidence in that outfit, dang it. I really did! Here... I have more proof from Saturday!
Creepy. It's what we do best.
This afternoon, my bridesmaids dress arrived from eshakti. I was excited to try it on- but it's hideous and was a tad tight. I took off the plaid top to try on this awful thing, and when I put it back on the sleeve on the right wouldn't act right. The sleeves can be worn long or 3/4 length, with the aide of a strapppy-buttony contraption. The problem was that the right side had come unbuttoned somehow around the circumference of my forearm, and I couldn't get it to re-button. It destroys the 3/4 effect and looks wacky unbuttoned. We tried buttoning it AT my elbow, as well as buttoning it at my wrist and rolling it up. Nothing was working. My big fat forearms were ruining things. But how, and why? I didn't magically swell up on one side and not the other, nor did one side of the shirt instantly shrink. Whatever the cause... I lost it. We had planned to grab some food and head to the mall to hunt for a new bridesmaids dress for me- but I had a nervous breakdown.
I bawled for 15 minutes or so, then threw on my running clothes. I had to sublimate this anger into something productive. My husband told me it wasn't my fault, that I was beautiful... that I was good enough, smart enough, and doggonit, people like me! But I couldn't Stuart Smalley my way out of this. I needed to sweat. And sweat I did.
I ran a 5K at the park (beating a former PR) for the heck of it, then huffed it to the Y and did some ST. I hate ST, but I thrived on it tonight. It hurt, I pushed harder. I maxed out. I sweated. I cursed under my breath. I had it OUT with my body. **I did so SAFELY. Good body mechanics, paused when necessary- but I pushed. I pushed it real good.
((Words of wisdom: Rage Against the Machine will make Bex push harder than she ever has before... i.e. a 9-minute mile for a few minutes at a time. ("%&*! you I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME!" Where my Rage fans at? Can I get a witness!?))
Anyway, at the end of the day, exhausted and fulfilled, I came home, gave the shirt the bird, and relaxed knowing that I'm insane. What a roller coaster of emotions over a stupid shirt. It was definitely the button's fault- something went awry. I didn't go all Popeye on one side instantaneously. It's not possible- it was a wardrobe malfunction. Nothing more. But I didn't binge. I worked it out. I sublimated that anger into something awesome.
Amidst my ramblings and whining during my tantrum, I told myself I was wasting my time- getting nowhere fast... too slow, not making a difference.
Tantrum Bex is an idiot. I gotta keep at it, though. We can't rest here. It's not safe yet. Not yet.
Keep digging, keep rolling up your sleeves- so you can roll up your sleeves.