Almost Enormous

I was shopping yesterday and overheard a woman sigh, “That is the second thing that I found that I like that is an extra small in the large section. I am done!” I have been there sister, again and again.

Then I came home and read my friend Martina’s blog, which emphasized self love and appreciation over an obsession over every little pound. I’ve been there too.

Here is what I have come to understand about weight: It is hard to lose. Although a year ago I gave my dad a meal plan that was identical to how I eat on a daily basis and he lost 40lbs in 3 months, so I will rephrase my proclamation to: For me, losing weight is hard. There are some legitimate reasons for this (I have two metabolic autoimmune diseases, for example) and there are some regular reasons for this (like how no amount of skinniness is worth giving up pie for … and don’t tell me that my mom’s pecan pie will taste just as good made with agave nectar as it does with corn syrup or that whole wheat crust is scrumptious).

I do believe that I am a pretty girl. I like myself. I can honor each curve and scar and lumpy part as part of my own wonderful story. I can sit alone in my car, crank up the song, “I am Beautiful,” and really feel beautiful.

However …

A few years ago my friend Cathy and I coined the phrase, “Almost Enormous,” which refers to girls like us who are spared the agony of shopping in the “Woman’s World” section (seriously, Woman’s World? What does that mean and why does it equal fatness?)  but still have to scan to the bottom of the piles at Target and Old Navy looking for XL’s.

For me, no matter how much I love myself, no matter how many times I affirm and celebrate that love or how many times I express gratitude for my life (which I truly, truly feel), shopping as an Almost Enormous girl, still sucks.

It is a psychological game, walking into the store to see section upon section of super cute things and knowing that you have to go closer to the back of the store, where the almost enormous things are hidden and many more things are made with elastic and polyester. I would like to invent a store that sells only size-less things … no markings or tags or sections at all. The Skinnies could not shop there because everything would be too big, but they would WANT to shop there because all the clothes would be so damn cute. This store does not exist. Don’t tell me Lane Bryant.

Every Almost Enormous girl has had the experience of going to an event with a super skinny friend. You spend a long time getting ready for this event. You leave the house feeling pretty good, pretty even, and then you see the photographs from the event and cringe at your own wideness. 

My mom told me that comparing myself to these Skinny Mini’s was like comparing a golden retriever to a chihuahua. I think that was a compliment, so when I get ready for big events like this I have to use Golden Retriver as a mantra.

Still (and this is where I would like to have a wee bit more Martina in me), I have deleted hundreds of photos of myself over the past year, ones of my holding my new baby. Last week, I looked at the photo of me giving Quinn a bath in the sink. He was smiling up at the camera, but all I could see in that photo was how fat my arm looked. I hit DELETE immediately. I deleted over half of the photos from his baptism and threw out the dress I wore that day (so much for black being slimming).

My daughter is a toothpick of a girl, a long, lean, string bean. She knows, from photos, that I was like that as a kid too. So I am very careful not to complain about weight around her, to never delete my fat pictures in front of her. But yesterday she walked downstairs in her tiny bikini and flip flops and grabbed the widest part of her thigh (no wider than a baseball bat), squeezed, and cried, “Mo-oom, FAT,” and then she put her running shoes on and ran for two miles.

In that single moment, I vowed to never delete photos again, to let go of any anger I have towards the Chihuahua girls, to sing the beautiful song more often, and to really know, to really believe that there is space for me in this world.