I've been obsessing a little bit over the last week on the idea for a new holiday dress. I wanted something nice for when I go home to Connecticut, and I wanted something special for Richard and I's first Christmas together. In my mind I saw something black, long sleeved, and either V or turtle neck. I scoured the internet, my usual haunts of Banana, Ann Taylor, even NY & Co. I failed to find anything remotely close to what I wanted, what I thought was a simple enough request.
On Saturday, I braved Macy's of Herald Sq. thinking I would do some Christmas shopping since it's only a week away; the mecca of suburban shoppers in the city, where people gather to look at the bright displays in the windows, and the inside is so congested with people, they literally herd you with ropes and extra staffers around the mezzanine floor and up and down the escalators. At several points, people were stuck at the bottom of the escalator with no place to go and pushing and shoving. Not the idyllic shopping environment, but this is NYC at the peak holiday season. I walked back and forth through I.N.C. and Style & Co. I even waded through the tweens on the juniors floor. I tried on a few black dresses that fit the description...not even close. Putrid in fact. They were some of the most unflattering things I've ever tried on. I left Macy's halls with two pairs of shoes from Nine West, and a new pair of leather gloves. Hmm...only gifts for me....oh well...keep going.
So obsessed was I that I trodded through Ann Taylor Loft, and GAP once more, thinking, hoping, just maybe they'd have some new stock. Nothing to be found. Then I arrived at the holy land, Banana Republic. I had been to a different one earlier in the week and found nothing, nothing that looked good anyway.
This one was larger though, with better selection. I grabbed five or six dresses off the rack and made my way to the fitting room. Disaster again. Ugly, frumpy, tight in the wrong places, and overall ICK. Then I saw it. A red, silk cocktail dress in a Grecian-style one-sided strap. I NEVER would have picked this for me; but it was in my size so I tried it on. In a word....exquisite. I blushed at the price, and teetered back and forth over whether I would buy something so expensive that may not fit in a couple of months. I decided in the end I could always get it tailored.
The choice was well worth it when I saw the look on Richard's face when I tried it on in front of him.
I LOVE this dress, and it is a size 14!!!!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
45 Degrees of Separation
My scale hit the milestone of 45 pounds of loss earlier this week. I stopped celebrating milestones a few weeks ago when I kept hitting them in quick succession. I feel different in more ways than I can count; at least this time of night.
Aside from being 5 lbs off of my surgeon's goal for my total weight loss, there are the little things, the "NSV" or non-scale victories as they put it on the boards that just keep piling up. I went for drinks earlier this evening. I use the word "drinks" liberally because after only 3 sips of my merlot I was three sheets to the wind. I actually almost fell asleep on the 5 train back uptown, and I thought I might throw up as I walked down the street avoiding the wind and rain. I suppose I can't complain really. One $15 cocktail in Manhattan will do for me what 3 or 4 used to.
I walked into Banana Republic earlier this week, and I didn't get that immediate feeling of self-defeat at the thought of facing the racks and, much worse, the dressing room with its ill-lighting. I was warmly welcomed instead of snubbed by Ann Taylor because I actually looked like I could fit into their clothes, even it was on the upper end of the size spectrum. I met with an attorney on Saturday who I hadn't seen since my father's funeral and he barely recognized me.
I don't see it in myself. I don't look in the mirror and have an epiphany of amazement. I feel it in my clothes, of course (still no belt by the way). I refuse to buy anything from Lane Bryant anymore, even though I could probably get away with the pants in a 14, though not the shirts anymore.
I was able to buy a pair of mid-ankle boots. This may seem like a small feat, but not for me. I used to look at those boots and their miserable zipper with the same self-defeat as a Banana Republic sales rack. But the zipper went up. I put my hair up in a pony tail and I don't feel like I have that immediate round head syndrome.
I walk past tight squeezes, through various people in crowds, through tables at a crowded restaurant without the pre-mind-estimate of whether or not I will fit or should find an alternate route. I fit a-ok.
In another week or so, I'll empty out my closet of about half its contents, donating my suits to Dress for Success, and a lot of my clothes to friends or goodwill.
In short, I feel separated from my former self. Those 45 pounds feel tremendous, and while no, it's really not degrees, it's a cute title, no?
Aside from being 5 lbs off of my surgeon's goal for my total weight loss, there are the little things, the "NSV" or non-scale victories as they put it on the boards that just keep piling up. I went for drinks earlier this evening. I use the word "drinks" liberally because after only 3 sips of my merlot I was three sheets to the wind. I actually almost fell asleep on the 5 train back uptown, and I thought I might throw up as I walked down the street avoiding the wind and rain. I suppose I can't complain really. One $15 cocktail in Manhattan will do for me what 3 or 4 used to.
I walked into Banana Republic earlier this week, and I didn't get that immediate feeling of self-defeat at the thought of facing the racks and, much worse, the dressing room with its ill-lighting. I was warmly welcomed instead of snubbed by Ann Taylor because I actually looked like I could fit into their clothes, even it was on the upper end of the size spectrum. I met with an attorney on Saturday who I hadn't seen since my father's funeral and he barely recognized me.
I don't see it in myself. I don't look in the mirror and have an epiphany of amazement. I feel it in my clothes, of course (still no belt by the way). I refuse to buy anything from Lane Bryant anymore, even though I could probably get away with the pants in a 14, though not the shirts anymore.
I was able to buy a pair of mid-ankle boots. This may seem like a small feat, but not for me. I used to look at those boots and their miserable zipper with the same self-defeat as a Banana Republic sales rack. But the zipper went up. I put my hair up in a pony tail and I don't feel like I have that immediate round head syndrome.
I walk past tight squeezes, through various people in crowds, through tables at a crowded restaurant without the pre-mind-estimate of whether or not I will fit or should find an alternate route. I fit a-ok.
In another week or so, I'll empty out my closet of about half its contents, donating my suits to Dress for Success, and a lot of my clothes to friends or goodwill.
In short, I feel separated from my former self. Those 45 pounds feel tremendous, and while no, it's really not degrees, it's a cute title, no?
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