Size is such a funny concept. I haven’t focused on my weight as a number of importance in a long time, but clothing size isn’t something that can really be avoided – even if you make your own clothes, chances are you’re using a pattern and even those patterns have size guidelines. For better or for worse, my size has become part of my identity. I like to think it’s for better; I haven’t had a problem with my size in quite some time. In fact, one could say it’s become a point of pride, being a larger—yes, FAT—curvy woman with breasts, belly, hips and an ass that can’t be overlooked. But when that changes? The size, I mean. (Gods know the curves are still present.) It’s an odd thing to wrap my head around, now that the discovery has been made that My Number is not what it was for years—what I’ve been comfortable with for years.
Certainly I’m comfortable with these new jeans fitting better than my jeans have fit in a while. I’m really alright with not constantly hitching them up, and definitely celebrating the lack of saggy pant-seats! I’ll be frank with you, though: this new size that I bought last night is a size that I haven’t bought since high school. And I know that’s kind of the coveted “thing,” to fit into one’s old high school jeans, but for those of us not obsessed with being our younger, supposedly smaller selves, for those of us who are comfortable with our current size, it’s just strange. For me, it hearkens back to a time when I wasn’t as comfortable with myself, when I did dread going up any size at all. It hearkens back to a time when there was more self-loathing present in my life than self-love.
That’s where it changes, folks. I may be back in my old high school size, but I will not be slipping back into my old high school mentality along with these new jeans. These jeans will be worn with self-love, self-acceptance and self-confidence. I will continue to strut and sashay my way down the street, not revert back to scuttling along with my shoulders hunched, trying to shield myself from the prying eyes of unforgiving peers. I have come a long way since those days, and I intend to hold on to that growth, regardless of how my body shrinks—or expands, for that matter. Because expansion may very well happen again, and that’s okay. The most important discovery I have yet made—infinitely more important than the superficial discovery of a changed pants size—is that true comfort happens when we grow and/or continue to love ourselves, accept ourselves and treat ourselves well (which, by the way, includes indulging every so often) despite any changes that may occur. Our bodies are constantly in flux, but our love for ourselves and our desire to take care of these bodies we inhabit should never diminish. When we can acknowledge that we are beautiful and worthy creatures despite sizes, shapes or any other external factors, that becomes the most comfortable fit of all, and everything else is just the denim-clad cherry on the sundae.
Mmmm… ice cream.