Now I’m sure, in a few months, I will love jean shopping. Actually, swipe that, I won’t. I know I won’t. Because no matter what size I am I still get horrendously depressed trying clothes. But maybe slightly less at a lower weight.
But I hate my shape. I’m a trunk. No sexy curves, no waist, cleavage and **** are ok, but nothing to write to Jugs about. And because I have no waist trying jeans on is the least fun you can have that involves getting partly undressed! I avoid some shops because I just know the cut will be all wrong. But other shops I would hope would be more sensitive to my boyish frame! But what really upsets is when I try on a size I think I am, only to find I can’t do it up, or it squishes in all the wrong places and there are lumps and bumps where there should be no lumps and bumps. I was half tempted to give in and get more leggings, but I wanted jeans. Even if they were to fit for only a couple of months, I want to feel like I look acceptable and ok throughout winter! So after spending a substantial amount of time in changing rooms and being close to tears, I left the designer outlet I had high hopes of, and went off to my local supermarket. Frustrated, upset, angry at myself, angry at the shops, and plain old disheartened. I started to wonder how I’ve managed to let myself get to this point. I’ve got so many clothes that I love, in sizes too small to fit my left leg in, let alone fit into. I started to wonder if I will ever ever be happy and content with myself, with my size.
Shopping is obviously a hideous trigger for me. I quickly move away from self acceptance (and by that I don’t mean being happy with my size and shape, I simply mean being more loving and caring of my body and mind) to self loathing (where I pour insults and abuse onto myself in a way I wouldn’t dream about doing to my worst enemy). I magnify all my faults and flaws to the size of the moon. I even texted my husband and called myself a lard arse . Why would I say this of myself, when my body has been doing what it can to look after me and protect me over the years? It’s not the way it is because I simply thought I’d eat too much and not exercise enough. It’s the way it is because I’ve used food to soothe and comfort. It’s the way it is because I’ve used my fat as a great big old suit of armour, to protect myself from the horrid things I didn’t know how to deal with. But I’m in a different place now. I’m in a place of awareness and learning, and the habits I had are being changed. Now when I want to self soothe or comfort, I might just head to bed or bath with a good book. Now I appreciate the way my body feels after exercise.
But there will still be days like this, where I turn on myself, where when I need kindness above all else, I choose to assault myself and my body and temporarily believe the lies I tell myself.
I did find some jeans. Good old Sainsbury’s saved the day! And it was the first pear I tried on in there. If only I’d headed there first! But then, if I had, I wouldn’t be writing this and realising how far I’ve come!