There’s a dress I own that’s brown, pink and striped all over. I wore it to a friend’s wedding last year. It fit me perfectly and hugged my body beautifully. I thought the dress was sublime.
A year later, I was invited to another wedding. I thought, Well, there’s nothing wrong with wearing it again. It’s still beautiful and the wedding will be in another country anyway so nobody there has seen me in it before. So I went about the rest of my business complacently, smiling at the thought of wearing my brown and pink dress again, the one with stripes all over.
I tried it on this evening and wondered why I didn’t fit it much earlier — like three months ago. It wouldn’t fit. Maybe there’s something wrong with the zipper, I thought. So I readjusted the dress and tried zipping it up. It still wouldn’t go up halfway. “Husby!,” I called out, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Could you zip me up please?” When my husband started zipping, pictures of taunting donuts and nachos with devil’s horns flashed in front of my eyes.
“Uh, Wifey, I think there’s something wrong with the zipper,” H diplomatically said.
I groaned to myself, then shouted, “MY DRESS CAN’T FIT ME! I’M SO FAT! UGGGGGHHHHHH.” H, knowing not to bother me, went back to painting his model toys. I, on the other hand, slid out of the dress and put it back in the closet. Over and over in my head were sentences that started with “I should have…,” “I shouldn’t have…” and “Ugggghhhhhh…”
Maybe it shrank when I had it dry-cleaned, I’d start thinking. Stop making excuses! It was all those cheeseburgers and cake!, I’d scold myself. I faced the music and just said to myself, “What the heck. I gained weight. Now what do I do?” This is definitely one problem wherein passing the cookies won’t help.
The wedding is in less than three weeks. I have no dress. The brown and pink one with stripes all over used to hug my body beautifully, and now it hugs my body lethally – it attempts to cut off my breathing. There is no way I can lose the pounds I gained over a year in just two weeks. And so, I have to buy a new dress. I hate shopping for formal wear, but I have no choice. Sigh. More importantly, I’ll have to try exercising more too. I am beginning to understand that my metabolism could also be slowing down.
This dress I own that’s brown and pink, and striped all over, I still think is sublime. The next time I take it out of the closet, I will fit into it again. Beautifully. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned by a dress she can’t fit into anymore.