Reality Check

Chicago, July 2009

 

 

My sister, my mom, my sister's BFF, her mom, my husband, and myself all flew to Chicago to have a go at Filene's Basement Running of the Brides.

 

During that trip, the wheels started turning for me.  It should have been the trip of a lifetime.  I should have gone and had a blast, helping my sister choose a dress.  Instead, I got lost in thought. 

 

If you've never experienced the Running of the Brides, let me fill you in.  Hundreds of crazy brides, their friends, their moms, their gay boyfriends, their brothers, and even a few hapless fiancés rush in, grab as many dresses as possible, find a corner (and hopefully a mirror) and the brides start trying dresses.  The more outgoing groups (mostly the boyfriends) wander the floor, making friends, and bartering for new dresses.  One particular group caught my attention.  One poor man made a lap around the store, calling out for any dress in a size 24.  And then another lap.  And another.  And again.  He finally unearthed the ugliest monstrosity of a dress, which the bride didn't even bother putting on.  I watched her struggle to zip smaller dresses, trying to smile through the heartache, and maybe salvage some fun from the day.  The more dresses she tried, the rowdier her group got.  And the sadder I got. 

 

 It hit me that she could have been me.  Two years before, I had gotten married in a size 20 dress (wearing size 18 street clothes).  I was currently in a size 24 (street clothes).  I realized that I had placed myself out of every dress in that store.  That I was responsible for not being able to shop wherever I wanted.  That I had forfeited the greatest love of my life.  However, I pushed that thought aside, fast-talked another bride out of a KILLER dress for my sister, and went on with my vacation.

 

It wasn't until we got home, and my sister's BFF posted these pictures online, that I realized just how bad it was.  No more hiding.  No more thinking I was cuter than I was.  No more pretending that it's just a bad camera angle. 

 

I joined a gym and bought a scale the day after these pictures went online. 

I was a size 24, 259.6 pounds.

 

I was determined to get back into my high school jeans (size 12) if it killed me. 

I was determined to get back on the soccer field, even if I sucked.

I was determined to leave the Women's Department behind.

I was determined to rediscover my love of clothing.

I was determined to lose that girl forever.