“The Dress” will be here soon. I’m wracked with fear about it. I am most assuredly not ready to go and be fitted for alterations, which I’m hoping won’t be a problem since the wedding still isn’t for eight months. Weight loss has NEVER been this hard for me before, and it’s driving me slowly insane. How on earth did I used to do this so easily before? How in the hell did I work for Weight Watchers for seven years and yet not have the sense instilled in me to do what I know to do?
“Fat Girl Syndrome” sucks. You know what I’m taking about…knowing what to do, but not wanting to do it, not putting forth the effort that you know will bring results. It’s ridiculous. And it starts this cycle of shame and eating because of the shame and being embarrassed because your skinny friends are silently judging you and then eating because you’re embarrassed and so on and so forth. It’s this never-ending hamster wheel of hell.
I look at this
and wonder how it turned into this
I don’t want to be the fat bridesmaid. But the flipside is that, no matter how much weight I lose, I’ll be the big bridesmaid, so I’m screwed either way. I just want to feel like I’m not an embarrassment in this dress.
As much as self-help people try to convince us otherwise, our sense of self-worth is inextricably tied to how we look. We can talk a big game about being accepted for who we are and feeling beautiful at any size, but the reality is that, more often than not, our sense of success and failure is dictated by our weight. I am fat, therefore I am a failure. When I am thin, I’ll be successful. And, to a degree, that’s true…a local financial consultant who has a show on our talk radio station cited a statistics that connected salaries, promotions, and raises with physical fitness…the thinner the employee, the better his or her chances of advancement and increased salary. So, even though these inspirational speakers tell you that your weight does not determine your worth, it actually *does*…at least, it does to your employer.
Man, all of this angst over a dress. I must be cracking up.