I think I've gained some weight. I thought it was the dry cleaning, but I've come to the conclusion--I, er....gained a little weight. Something in the neighborhood of a dress size.
Not that I want to go around telling people I've moved from a fourteen to a sixteen, lol. It's pretty obvious.
Back when I was a svelte twelve, I fought moving to a fourteen. It was just something about the number "4". Fourteen. As in large pants. Pants that were big on top. I don't know why. Maybe because I'd dropped to an eight just before my daughter was born. But afterwards, I couldn't get it off and the whole messed up gallstones operation on top of three c-sections gave me the beer-belly from Hell.
So...as I was trying on my conference clothes--some of the best, most expensive, carefully thought out and classic stuff I've ever bought in my life--nothing fit, except for my favorite suit top. I don't "think" I put all the weight around my hips. I mean--actual weight-wise I'm only four pounds heavier than I was two years ago, but I have this horrible fear that I was actually an eighteen for the last year, got hives, and lost enough to squeeze down into a sixteen.
Maybe the doctor was right and I should really think about a scale (scale=bad word). It wouldn't have come as such a shock if I'd noticed I was like...oh, a hundred and eighty pounds and the thrill of losing weight was just an illusion. Gaining, to lose, and settle in a size bigger is just not cool.
...I have no clothes.
I'd been reworking my wardrobe over the last year. A shirt here, a shirt there--a pair of jeans that fit and were comfortable enough to sleep in (for those days I crash), a pair of sneakers. I went out to the store, looking for a dress that meets my extreme specifications (must not show anything bulgy, doesn't make me look squat, doesn't snag on things, isn't scary from the back) and...well, there was a MIRROR in the dressing room.
Not just a mirror, but a three way mirror with a fourth on the door so I could see "all" of me. In horrible living color, lumps, bulges and hair. I just got a haircut. I thought it looked good.
argh!!! From the back it looks very...male. And the dress was bulgy. All the dresses were bulgy.
So, in lieu of a nice dress for Nationals (and a suit--two suits, two dresses and slacks) I'm giving myself a self-image talk. My jeans are very nice and my shirts are extremely nice. I have great costume jewelry. I also look mostly feminine when I have makeup on. I own a pair of pumps (which I bought to go with the suits and don't match the jeans) and a really nifty black leather laptop bag.
Attitude is everything.
And chocolate. I have lots of chocolate.