The clock struck day twelve and I was in some serious need of a no plans day. I went to work, got great news, smiled the rest of my shift. Thought I’d check out the local Sports Chalet to see if anything was holding on to hope for their now 70-90% off sale. Discovered some bikinis flapping in the breeze, some gigantic boots, and extra large pants. I’ll take them all! Just kidding. Bye.
I walked out the door and there it was. The bright pink sign. The smell of “love spell” in the air (actually, I think they stopped making that when I was in junior high). The most beautiful four letter word to ever exist. “Sale.” With the potential for a business trip on the horizon, I decided I wanted a robe. Because I am just a grown up child, I imagined myself in my silky robe, sitting in my hotel room after a long day, ordering room service and not moving. Don’t be fooled, Victoria’s Secret is not my usual haunt; the thought of paying $60 for a bra is just not something I can support, no matter how much support it actually has. But I’m on a quest. I want that robe. I glide through the door.
Next thing I know I’m in a fitting room and Karen is asking me if I know what size bra I wear and if I want her to measure me. I think about letting her do it because deep down in my soul I know I’m probably all wrong and how funny to be almost thirty and not know what size boobs/ tatas/ breast blossoms I actually have. I spare Karen and spend my time in the dressing room alone.
Feeling sexy is an important thing and I’m not quite sure if I know how to do it sober. But in this moment, staring at myself, I am feeling pretty okay. I’ve been going to my workout class, and though I don’t see any obvious progress (granted it’s only been two weeks), I feel better about myself as a whole. I’ve found something I wanted to do and I’ve stuck with it. I’ve taken time out to nourish my body, to challenge it, to push it beyond the things I think I’m capable of. I’ve done that with my mind, too. I feel… different. Better.
An hour and too many things no one is going to see me in later, I walk out the door with a pep in my step and my perfectly pink bag. I go to class. I go home. And I spend the night thinking about how to love myself more. It is possible to love and hate yourself at the same time and I’ve been doing that for far too long. This little experiment of mine has made me realize that my body issues, that have been around for as long as I can remember, are not just rooted in my actual physical appearance; they linger elsewhere, too. That there are other ways to solve them than by being on this forever quest to be stick skinny when really my skeleton isn’t even made that way. I am learning how to be proud of myself again, which is a feeling I didn’t even know I lost. I feel healthier, in body and mind.
Idk what exactly your secret is, Victoria, but thank you for letting a girl stand in front of a mirror for far too long so she could realize that everything is pretty okay right now. That bodies are a beautiful thing always and your mind even more so. And thank you to myself, for finally sitting still. For finally just loving.
the length of waves 