Shopgirl.

The Weight Watchers and I have planned a Shopping Expedition to a larger city a few hours away this upcoming weekend.  While we do live right on the edge of the 2nd largest city in our state, we also live in a state that is, population-wise, wee.  So, “2nd largest” doesn’t mean much.

Anyway, shopping!  Yay!  Perhaps I can address my tragic lack of pants.  I’m tired of rotating the same three pairs of cargo pants and one pair of jeans.  I’m rarely work-appropriate in terms of the actual dress code, but things are getting a bit out of hand, even for me.  I look like a street urchin from Oliver Twist most days.  Or possibly Natty Gann.  Very professional.

My initial thought about the Shopping Expedition was this: “Hmm…should I buy new clothes right now considering the still-shifting nature of my weight?”

Lately, my ass seems to be contracting and expanding like a variable star; one day a pair of pants will be loose, three days later tight, the next week fit perfectly, repeat, repeat, repeat.  It’s maddening and making getting dressed unpredictable and fraught with body-acceptance peril.  There is frequent cursing.  Pants are thrown.  The dogs hide.  It’s ugly.

But to put off buying new clothes will probably only make that situation worse.  I just want to feel cute in this body because this body is cute.  It’s the exact-right body for me, for the live I’m living right now.  So, don’t I deserve to be dressed in clothes that make me feel like myself?  Don’t I deserve to get to go into my closet and choose from things I like, not just things that fit?

I think it’s basically an issue of trust.  I don’t completely trust my body quite yet.  I don’t trust that it’s going to choose one size (or very small range of sizes) and stay there; that’s why I still have clothes ranging from 4s to 12s in my house.  I don’t know where my body is headed and while it does seem to be holding rather tightly to the size 10 / mid-140s range, I’m scared to make an investment in clothing if I’m going to get larger or smaller.

Honestly, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it?  Like any clothing I buy right now has to last the rest of my life.  Like I won’t be buying new items of clothing next season (or next month).

If I’m going to feel good about my body, I have to extend self-care to include how I dress myself.  If that means spending a small fortune of my my husband’s money to get some saucy new clothes that may or may not fit in three months?

Well, I’m worth that.