Before I lost weight, I used to hate clothes shopping. I easily became frustrated with both the size that I needed and the style of the "fat clothes" from which I was forced to pick. Let's face it, nothing cute comes in a size 18 -20.
I am now a size 12, and shopping is easier and more fun. I typically don't have problems finding an outfit, and I am able to choose from more contemporary styles. Shopping no longer stresses me, unless of course I'm searching for one very specific item. When that is the case, Murphy's Law always rears its head and I often spend hours frantically looking for something that should be relatively easy to locate.
I was asked to bring some sundresses to the California photo shoot. "No problem," I thought to myself. It's the middle of May, so locating a sundress should be easy. I'd been in the mall a few weeks earlier and saw some adorable dresses. I was actually pleased that the photographer requested a sundress. I find it easier to camouflage my ample hips and plump bum in a well designed dress.
I drove up to my Mom's for the day, left Robby Rotten with her and hit the mall. I was optimistic as I drove, envisioning that the most difficult aspect was going to be narrowing down my choices. I was feeling pretty and perhaps a tad cocky.
I sauntered through the first store, confident in my dress shopping abilities and proud of my figure. And then I reached the dress racks. There were not nearly as many dresses as I had seen just weeks earlier. The dresses that remained were too small and those that might fit were unsightly. Strike one.
Undeterred, I walked through the mall and looked in every clothing store. If I had needed booty shorts or metallic mini-skirts, I would have been in the perfect place. I found a number of sequined left-over prom dresses, some swim suit covers and a crocheted dress that could be personalized with "fancy" undergarments. I did not find a single sundress. Strike two.
Baseball has three strikes before the batter is out. Thankfully shopping is not like baseball. I drove to two other department stores across town, providing strikes three and four. I was discouraged, tired and hungry. I drove back to my Mom's to eat dinner and formulate a new plan.
My Mom and I came up with a strategic plan of attack. After dinner we set out to the outlet mall. I was not terribly optimistic, but she remained upbeat and confident in our dress finding abilities. Robby happily sung to himself in the back seat, occasionally reminding me that he will help me find a "pretty pretty dress."
We parked in front of the Liz Claiborne outlet and I grabbed my purse from the back seat. I was about to unbuckle Robby from his booster seat when I glanced in the window. I saw "my dress" in the window. I took off running through the parking lot, leaving my Mom to unbuckle and gather up my child. I had to have that dress!
I entered the store and immediately found my size. And then I found another dress that was cute. By the time my Mom and Robby came into the store I was clutching three dresses and grabbing for another.
Robby came back to the dressing room with me. Unlike me, he enjoys being in a room surrounded by mirrors! I, on the other hand, often attempt to dress without peeking so that I don't have to see my rear jiggle as I wiggle into the clothes.
I slipped into the first dress, stepped out of the dressing room and modeled for my Mom and Robby. My Mom thought the dress was the perfect fit. Robby, animated and excited, jumped and clapped his hands. He proudly proclaimed that I looked "like a beautiful whale."
I've never before thought that being called a whale would be a good thing. I am not sure how Robby came up with that compliment, but I know that he meant to be nice. So, I bought the dress and two others. When I wear the dress for the photos, I know that I will be smiling and that I will feel pretty. After all, I'm a beautiful whale in that dress!