Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Sometimes I throw things.

I ran into the house and threw my arms around my bear of a husband, "15 minutes!" I panted, "I have 15 minutes to get ready!". I kissed him on the mouth, threw my purse down on the counter and my coat on the couch, and ran up 2 flights of stairs to our bedroom. I stood in front of a row of dresses trying to catch my breath and lamented that I hadn't shaved my legs in a socially acceptable amount of time. "Tights…" I muttered. What was I going to wear with tights? Do I even know where my tights are? Trying to think quickly, I grabbed my bin of socks (and occasional hosiery) off the shelf and sorted through quickly trying to find those elusive black hose.

Getting frustrated that I still had yet to be dressed, and that 5 precious minutes had passed, I tried on outfit after outfit- hating each more than the last. This one's too tight. This one's too short. It's too cold for this one. This one's too big. All of them were wrong in some way, and by now 9 minutes had passed, and it looked like a post-black Friday shopping session had taken place in my closet. I finally settled on a dress that I'd worn for our first date; it seemed fitting for dinner at a new restaurant, and I could throw on a cardigan [and tights]. I quickly went to put on my trusty black tights, and… they didn't fit. Maybe my thighs had doubled in size since last Winter. Maybe they had shrunk in the wash. Let's be honest, maybe they'd just gathered weirdly since I was rushing to put them on. Whatever it is, they had failed me and I sat on our bed feeling defeated. I ran back into the closet, grabbed the hosiery bin and dumped it onto our bed. I found another pair of thin leggings that would work, but when I put them on I felt that my curvy legs looked too shiny with the material- that I looked like I walked on 2 curvaceous sausages.

My sweet husband smiled as I walked around moaning that my legs were "too shiny!". 14 minutes. I flopped on our bed and felt terrible. I hated all of my clothing, I hated my body, I hated my "shiny" legs… Everything which would normally be a not big deal WAS a big deal, and it was devastating me in such an annoying way. The Bearded Wonder wrapped his arms around me and said everything he knows to be true: "You look amazing. You're so beautiful. I love you so much.". But when you're an irrationally emotional woman, these words (while so heartfelt and wonderful to hear) just bounce off your lustrous legs and fall onto the floor.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

So. That was my Friday night. I'd had a perfectly fine day, and in a matter of ~15-20 minutes I'd completely bottomed out and was hating my body. How did that happen? Was it because I get really stressed out when I'm feeling rushed? Was it because I needed to do laundry, or shave my legs? What is it that makes a woman go from feeling pretty fine and dandy to plummeting to the belly of the beast? Hubbins was giggling at me running spastically around our room, and I told him that tomorrow I would find this hilarious, but today I wanted to hide under our blankets and not come out.

No, Jess, I wasn't!
Anyway. Today is Wednesday and it's the day before it's socially acceptable to wear sweatpants to a meal (you know, so you have eatin' room. har har.), and I'm muuuuch better. I still haven't figured out what the problem was, but I think this was more of a post to garner some solidarity. Sometimes you hate your body and your clothes, but it's ok. It happens. It's normal. If you have ovaries, it probably happens weekly! So breathe deep through the disdain you find radiating off your shiny legs (ahem), and remember that tomorrow will be better. Pinky swear.

If you do Thanksgiving, enjoy your foods! If you do Black Friday, throw an elbow! My friend and I are doing our annual black friday tradition (which we totally have down to a science), and plan on walking into Target like so:


You can't handle our Black Friday swagger. Or something.

Any Thanksgiving plans, friends? Do you do Black Friday? Do you have a plan of attack?

<3
A Redhead

1 comment:

  1. Are you promising me that Ian Somerhalder will be in Target??? If that's the case, then I want to go when they open!

    And yes, it's a fact of life. Sometimes we hate our clothes, our bodies, our hair, and our dog for giving us weird bruises on our legs. Being in a rush definitely adds to that for me. Sometimes you just feel more stressed, even if you don't realize it, and then it just takes one little thing to set you off. Like having a closet full of clothes with nothing to wear.

    Men have it so easy...

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