Saturday, June 8, 2013

Cold Sweats, Shopping, and Beauty

Eighty's music filtered through the open roof of my mirrored dressing room. Silks, satins, and chiffons billowed around me in the air conditioned, gardenia scented space. I rejected gown after gown with the entitlement of the most aristocratic shoppers, and still the young sales assistant smiled and brought me more. Finally, I found one that both flattered the good and concealed the bad. I felt classically elegant, not at  all matronly, and well represented by my curves. Even more importantly, I would be done shopping for evening gowns for years. The relief that came with that thought was almost like an adrenaline crash.

I enjoy shopping (the exception always being bathing suits and bras). Yesterday, it was horrible and I couldn't wait to be done with the whole mess. I was in a cold sweat the entire time. I was ashamed to have the young girl help me zip because she would feel notice how clammy my fat was.  I thought I was at peace with my figure -- I guess I'm not. I'm womanly, which is a good thing given that I find feminine curves attractive even if it is not the socially accepted standard of beauty. Yes, I would be happy to lose two or three dress sizes, but don't feel unattractive.

It all started with my size twelve bridesmaid dress from a friend's wedding ten years ago not fitting. My daughters were ecstatic to go dress shopping with me and, frankly, were the best part of the whole experience. They were awed by the princess imagery around them and loved everything. If it was floor length and included something sparkly, they thought I looked beautiful. The dress I ended up buying was their least favorite (for lack of sparkles), but didn't make me feel like a sausage or a Samoan grandmother. In spite of the high stress sweats throughout the entire experience, I liked the dress until I got home and looked up pictures online to show my husband. Now I actively dislike it and am kicking myself for spending the money. I guess I'll have to wait until my order arrives for the fitting to see it again and confirm that I chose wisely.

My dress is the center gown, only in amethyst (deep plum -- oh, and that blingy bauble at the center is added embellishment). The model does less for the dress than a clothes hanger. I understand that high fashion models are supposed to be emaciated, but looking at this picture implies that this is how the dress is supposed to look on the wearer and the way it looks on me must be very wrong. I will say that she has very healthy looking hair for someone so lacking in any body fat.

What's the point of this post? Venting, perhaps? It clearly doesn't have to do with writing, though the shopping was in preparation for the RWA convention rapidly approaching. 

1 comment:

Susan Kane said...

Trying on clothes in a fitting room always makes me break out in a sweat. The harsh lights and the unforgiving mirror are not a big help either.

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