Showing posts with label body issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body issues. Show all posts
My perfect casual outfit . . . with a scarf, of course.
I tend to shy away from trendiness, instead opting for classic, casual, and timeless. Though I did buy a couple neon tees this summer. I'm a product of the 80s.  I had to.

In the near future I'll be dressing up more as a career woman, but I'll always favor classic styles. That's why I gravitate toward the easy-breezy designs of Gap and J. Crew. Aside from Target staples like plain tees, I get most of my clothes from these two brands.

I feel it is important to note that I almost never pay full price. There are too many good coupons and sales. J. Crew, especially, can get pricey, and I'm a patient person when it comes to clothing. If it sells out before it's affordable, it wasn't meant to be. I'll eventually stop thinking about it.

But the last couple years I have struggled to relate to my go-to brands. Instead of chic neutrals that I could dress up or down, I was seeing a lot of figure-unflattering styles and prints that should never cover my rather voluptuous rump. All I could think as I perused their catalogs/websites was, "I would be SO uncomfortable!"

Case in point:

Gap

Gap


If the size 0 model looks like she's pregnant, what are the odds that it will look flattering on me?

They definitely lost touch with their customer base. Not that everything they sold screamed homelessness or streetwalker. But I walked into a Gap store on several occasions and couldn't find a plain V-neck tee. What.

No, thank you.
And if you keep up with these sorts of things, you'll know that Gap nearly collapsed under the weight of their ultra-skinny, ultra-low rise Native American print harem pants. They closed tons of stores and posted huge losses quarter after quarter. An American institution forgot who their customer base was and suffered an identity crisis as a result. Neutral-lovers like me were left wondering where to shop. I've never walked out of a Gap without buying anything as much as I did in 2011.

Recently, things have started to shift. They woke up to what was happening and decided to press the reset button. Classic, flattering jean styles, white button down shirts, and neutral colors started to reemerge. They hired industry experts to redesign the brand. They could have saved their money and just listened to their consumers. I'm sure a lot of other people felt the same way I did.

I am happy to report that I'm excited to shop again!  J. Crew released their fall catalog recently, and I'm overjoyed. I can look cute and wear timeless pieces! They no longer expect me to adorn my lumps in large flower prints! Yes!

Here's a peek at what has renewed my faith in fashion:


Gap
Gap
J. Crew
J. Crew
J. Crew
J. Crew

As you can see, I'm not a print-fearing human. I just happen to like prints that will last beyond one season. And don't make me look like the Michelin Man lost in the artificial flower department at Michael's. What I love is that if someone told me these outfits were from their Fall 2000 collection, I would believe them. They would have looked as put-together and stylish back then. Kudos to them for considering their entire customer base...not just women who can afford and want to buy flowered sateen capris. I just don't happen to be one of them.

A Fashion Gap

Wednesday, September 19, 2012




I want to feel like this. 

Or this.

No, I don't want to be Jen or Jessica. I said feel like them. I'd love their fortune, but I like being me just fine.  They are comfortable with their bodies and can just be . . . without the constraints that come with self consciousness. Their real bodies are not covered by the effects of emotional eating or stress.  They are experiencing total body freedom.

I've never been skinny. Whatever that looks like.  My mom's rich, homemade casseroles and unfortunate metabolic DNA made me a slightly chubby but active kid.  I was a size twelve when I graduated from high school.  Although not obese by any means, I was never really comfortable in my own body.

I've always felt like a skinny person inside, but a chunky monkey outside.

Prior to becoming pregnant with my son, my inner athlete came out.  I woke up naturally at 5 a.m. and starting walking several miles before work.  Then walking became jogging.  Without meaning to, I became a toned, fit size 6.  Fitness looked really good on me. To this day I don't know how much weight I lost, but it never really mattered because I felt so good.  After my son was born in May 2000, I slowly but surely lost most of the baby weight and was back down to a size 8 by that Halloween.  It helped that I worked at a YMCA.

For many years my weight yo-yoed.  My pants would get tight then I'd get it under control.  When I met my husband at 23, I was a size 10 who worked out with a friend at least three days a week. 

L❤ve, however, was not kind to my waistline.

I met an amazing guy who also happened to be a foodie.  He ate what he wanted, and I followed suit.  By the time we married in 2006, I was unhappily a size 16. And my weight has only gone up from there.  But I'm done.  Done with being fat.  With not looking the way I want to in clothes. Done denying my inner athlete.  I know she's in there somewhere.  The girl that desperately wanted to be an Olympic swimmer.  The one that still wants to be a runner.

I've lost weight before.  It's not rocket science.  Calories in versus calories out.  I also know that genetics are not on my side.  Neither is my hectic, often stressful life.  And entering my senior year of college will be no exception, as I'm feeling more pressure than ever to excel.  I do pretty well during the week when it's just my son and me, but things tend to fall apart on the weekends when we are out being foodies.

A friend of mine lost a considerable amount of weight a few years back, and she has always said her personal trainer made all the difference in her weight loss.  I am similar in that I need the push and accountability.  A membership to my college's gym is included in my student fees, and it is a great facility.  However, it can be hard to get a machine during the week and the "personal trainers" are actually students learning to be personal trainers.  I'm not too keen on either of those things.

So here is my dilemma:  Join a private gym and hire one of their personal trainers, or try an at-home program that will give me consistent results and keep me motivated?

I've heard snippets on Facebook touting the toughness of P90X and the muscle-exhausting nature of Insanity.  But can they really get the job done?  And can I commit that much time to it while at home where I'm surrounded by neglected laundry, a full DVR and mother's guilt at the fact that that hour isn't being spent giving Jared my undivided attention? If I'm really honest with myself, I probably won't be able to stick with them.

I'd be sooo skinny.
I'm someone who has to maintain consistency in both food and exercise.  If I'm exercising often, I eat better.  If I eat better, I exercise more often.  It's a weight loss snowball effect.  Only I look less like a snowball.

So in the end, I know I need a personal trainer.  I like the less expensive options, but unless those guys can come to my house and train me in person, the DVDs are probably going to end up collecting dust in my basement after a bit.  Buying a membership when I have a gym available to me makes me cringe.  It feels indulgent and wasteful.  But if I want to change the way I look and feel, I have to be willing to make the investment.  My husband didn't even blink at the prospect.  I'm lucky that way.

I have a gym picked out and a friend of mine recommended one of their personal trainers.  I'm hoping to talk them out of an initiation fee since we will be moving in less than two years and I will be utilizing their personal training services at an additional cost. Getting a deal would help ease my trepidation. Ultimately, I hope to discover a sustainable program that I can continue on my own indefinitely.  Teach-a-man-to-fish and all that. I will keep you updated . . .

Thoughts?  Experiences?

P. S. After writing this post, I came across this picture:

It speaks the truth.  My motivation to improve the way I look and feel stems from self love.  Self loathing would keep me where I'm at.  We all have phases in our lives . . . and this is just one of mine.  Now it is time for a new one.

I will look back on this as a learning experience, one that made me more compassionate of others while paving the path to self awareness. 

Personal Trainer or P90X?

Monday, August 20, 2012

Every month (or sometimes week, it would seem) when my Boden catalog arrives in the mail, I find myself lusting after nearly every item being offered up by the British clothing brand.  Their clothing is rich, interesting, colorful and unique.  Despite it's uniqueness, it is still incredibly timeless.  Well, that's assuming I don't change.  I certainly don't wear the same style of clothes that I did at 18 or even 25.  My style, like most things, is a constantly evolving aspect of my personality.  I like my clothing to say something (good) about me and reflect my place in life.
You want it too, don't you?
So how can I justify paying $150 for a cardigan, no matter how awesome it is?  To do so would be to assume that:
a) I will love it forever
b) it will last forever
c) I always fit into it
d) I feel good enough about the way I look in it to wear it enough to be worth it (boy was that a mouth full)

That's a lot of assumptions.  I know that plenty of people would pay that in a second, and do.  How else would the fashion industry go round?  And for some, that's nothing for a cardigan they will wear for just one season.  So why do I agonize over such things?  It's not that I couldn't pay that much for a cardigan, it's that I feel that I shouldn't.  To do so feels, well, wrong.  Perhaps that stems from my body issues, modest upbringing, or my personal constitution. What I do know is that that cardigan would be forever tainted by the all too familiar pang of regret that comes when doing something that is even slightly contrary to who I am.  It's a cardigan, for goodness sake!  Snap out of it!  But alas, I can't.  I could try to rationalize that it's simply a matter of perspective...and I have the wrong one.

My dress.  I didn't look like this.  My boobs are much bigger.  So are my other parts.
My wedding dress was courtesy of J. Crew and cost less than $500, which is nothing in the world of wedding dresses.  It was a long, flowing linen dress with a champagne-colored sash, perfect for our outdoor beach-themed wedding. And I didn't feel worthy of it.  It had spaghetti straps, one of which broke while burning up the dance floor with my new husband.  It almost didn't zip the day of due, in part, to water retention and nervous eating.  Whenever I look at the pictures I see a young woman who was self-conscious and uncomfortable in her own skin.  The dress was awesome, but I wasn't awesome in it.  I was wearing the largest size J. Crew made...and I didn't look J. Crew at all in it.  I wasn't easy breezy and full of self-love.  I was an imposter, and a poor one to boot.

This is easy breezy.
 The fact that I wouldn't pay $150 for the coveted cardigan because it could feed 20 children in Africa for a year, while true, is irrelevant. I hope I get to the point where that is my true reason for saying no to a $50 t shirt! You see, to wear those clothes would be to tell the world that I love my body and am proud to invest a small fortune on my wardrobe. It screams, "I deserve it!"  But I can't send that message, because I don't believe it for even a second.  To wear those clothes would be to ignore the fact that deep down, I don't think I should be wearing those clothes if I can't wear them in a size 8 or even 10 (hey, I'm not totally inflexible...).  I actually couldn't tell you why I chose those sizes.  I've seen some beautiful size twelves. And fourteens.  And sixteens. But I don't consider myself one of them.

More easy breeziness.  In case you still weren't sure what that looked like.
Honestly, I'm not full of self-hate. I promise!  There is A LOT I like about myself...arguably more than I dislike. I think I've just come to a point where I'm really, truly honest with myself (and now you) about my motives.  Looking good in gorgeous, expensive clothes should be a reward for forcing myself to take the steps necessary to look that way.  And that would require that I stop making excuses, stop eating because I'm _______ (sad, mad, glad, bad...fill in the blank), and I work my body into a state I can be proud of.  And doing it the wrong way (hello, extreme diet...but more on that soon) simply won't do.  I don't want to wear that AMAZING bubble-print shift dress if I can't feel good doing it.  It would be a rip-off not to enjoy it!  In a weird, twisted way, it's a form of self love to spare myself that disappointment.  In the meantime, it will be glued to my inspiration board, a constant reminder of what hard work inside and out can provide me with.

This is not the end of my great clothing debate.  It's just where I am now.  I hope that someday (soon) the wheels of evolution begin to turn again, but this time it turns me into a Boden-wearing, paid-too-much-for-those-shoes type of gal.  In the meantime, I've got to fix what's broken and hope that the rest follows suit.  Calvin Klein, I hope.


The Great Clothing Debate

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Instagram