It Aint Over ‘Til the Fat Lady Sings

I loathe fashion stores, particularly, smaller boutique types that are designed specifically for very small women. I came across one of these stores during a shopping expedition this weekend and walked in to get an idea of what was inside. By no means, was I stupid enough to assume I could pull off any of those outfits! Most of them are so skimpy, I would be walking around with my fanny hanging out – presuming I could get the damn dress up my exploding thighs. It was an exploratory visit more than anything else! Such was my rationale at the time.

The immaculately dressed hostess standing at the door welcomed me with a smile. I was immediately ushered in and offered a glass of champagne. My refusal and short explanation that I don’t indulge in alcohol was met with a frown but the professionalism of this mannequin-type hostess never wavered.

Once inside, I had the luxury of two sales assistants running to my aide, one proffering friendly advice on what the current trends are, the second, assuming that I am buying a gift for someone else, enquired about the person I am looking to buy a present for. All the while, assistant number one kept eying me strangely, until the moment when she felt the need to ask me a question.

When is your baby due?

I think the look on my face said it all as assistant number two quickly moved away from the firing line. Too horrified to fight, I walked out of the store with my head down.

As if that wasn’t enough, I still chose to go to another fashion store, this time finding dresses in my size, only to be met with very large four way mirrors in the change rooms. Those mirrors don’t lie.

I have become The Fat Girl.

I remember a time when I was the lanky, skinny one, modelling at fashion shows and eating whatever I wanted! Now, when I meet people I haven’t seen in a while, I am told that I am looking “healthy” and have really “filled out”. Sigh.

Dejected, I got home and relayed the story to Mr G.

Him:    “Sorry babe. Must I get you one of those doughnuts you like?”

 Me:      Screaming. “I don’t bloody want doughnuts!”

 Him:    “Don’t get upset with me. I never said you looked pregnant. If I was there, I would have laughed”.

 Me:      “How the hell would laughing at me, make me feel better?”

 Him:    “Oh, I didn’t say I would make you feel better, I would have just melted the ice”.

 Me:      “You are such an arse. Now go and get me that damn doughnut”.

I will get on that wagon from Monday 😦

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To Dream the Impossible Dream

Impossible Dream (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Earlier this year, whilst in a discussion with my boss, he referred to me as a “maverick”. At first, I thought I was being compared to an unbranded cow, only to realise he meant the other description, the nicer one (see ‘nonconformist’, ‘one of a kind’, ‘individualistic’). This was a heavy compliment as it came from a very difficult boss. Once said, it was embedded in my soul – embargoed from sharing, until I fully accepted the enormity of it. It may seem strange to you, but this was massive for me – a breakthrough. It was my absolution from many years of self-loathing and low self-esteem where my life was dictated to and held captive by the fear that prevented me from becoming who I was meant to be.

You see, until very recently, I was the proverbial wallflower, never daring to dream further than what the reality of my life was. When I moved from the small town that stifled me, something changed. The possibilities become endless. I was surrounded by movers and shakers and I did not want to be invisible anymore or ashamed of choices I made in my youth. I became restless and the need to do more was a stirring within me I could not ignore. My goal was to become the journalist I dreamt of becoming for years, fulfilling my passion for writing and connecting with women through stories that everyone could relate to. I chose to study again and did whatever I could to start the ball rolling in the right direction. I am happy to say that I am now finally reaping the rewards of my effort and my dreams are firmly on track. The fact that I am being published in a magazine that has a readership of more than thirty thousand women across the world, fills me with joy and excitement.

Following your passion, living your dream and giving yourself every opportunity you can, are elements that should be incorporated into your self-fulfilling prophecy over your life. Fear, lack of money or resources, no support…whatever the ties are that bind you, you have the freedom of choice to make changes. Start by incorporating a little of what you love doing in your daily life. Plan, envision, believe in yourself and do what you need to do to live your best life.

We are constantly reminded of how short and precious life is. The time is now to make changes.

Dare to dream!

It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it!

Move Over Thelma and Louise

A few years ago, I was invited to a wedding and decided to forfeit traditional wear in lieu of a sexy LBD. Being somewhat thinner, I thought I could pull of the emaciated look with ease, notwithstanding the fact that my LBD was in fact a size too small. Mr G, being impatient after waiting for two hours for me to get ready, hastily gave me a nod of approval when I asked him if I looked ok. The fact that I couldn’t breathe easily should have been a clear warning. Time being of the essence, we scrambled along to the wedding, only to get to the car park of the venue and – no surprises here – my exit from the car was met with a noise every woman dreads. My dress very neatly ripped all the way down revealing my not-so-small ass. Mr G, in true form, then decided to tell me that the dress was in fact too small and made no effort to protect my exposed parts. I surreptitiously made my way back into the car, fuming and grumbling, and went back home to change into the traditional outfit.  If only he would have told me that earlier, it would have saved me a lot of trouble. That is when I realised that (a) men (husbands/boyfriends) don’t pay attention and (b) when they do, they aren’t honest. This is where the platonic male best friend comes in.

I am a firm advocate of having honest and reliable wing women to help you get through life’s challenges. Personally, I have a close knit group of female friends with friendships spanning from ten years to twenty seven years. I am lucky in that respect. However, I have recently discovered the allure of having platonic male friends in my life.

Case in point one:

I recently bought a cute skirt that was typically designed for small bodies. Unfazed, I bought it to try and look younger – but I am not too confident when I wear it. I pranced around my best female friend and asked her opinion and was kindly told that I looked nice. I wore the skirt again on a day where my two closest male friends would see me and I ask their opinion. Both agreed without hesitation that I looked hideous and my ass looked abnormal. I never wore that skirt again and I am now saved from a lifetime of humiliation.

Case in point two:

Life has been fraught with challenges this year and when I complain to my best girlfriends, all of them concur with me and, amidst lots of cake and tea, a full blown pity party starts. It feels great to have support, love and empathy. When I relate the same story to my male friend, he is quick to cut the story short, gives me a lecture about feeling sorry for myself and reminds me that I am strong and capable with endless choices. There were no warm hugs or kindness. Forget about getting a piece of chocolate cake to ease the harshness! Nooo. He did not let me complain for a second longer. I was angry and accused him of being cold and heartless. Within an hour though, while I sulked and plotted revenge, he had completely forgotten the entire episode. If that happened with a female friend, I know the grudge would have gone on for longer. Much to my dismay – or wounded pride, I actually did wake up feeling positive the next day.

If you are lucky enough to have this relationship with your husband, great! For me though, my friendships with these two male friends in particular have provided invaluable insight into the male psyche, has rescued me from several fashion faux pas’ and generally spared me days of depression.

Every girl needs one of these in her life – go out and find your male bestie!

PS. Purely platonic with full disclosure to partners though! Just ask Mr G, who nods in approval as I gave an exaggerated recount of how badly said male friend hurt my feelings (I am sure he wasn’t actually listening though).