nothing fits

Ben is out of town for work for the next three days so I thought I would spend most of the day out in pursuit of trying to find some clothes that could possibly fit me.

I thought for some reason it would make me feel a little better to feel cute again.  To not have to pull up the maternity jeans again.  To not actually look pregnant anymore because I'm basically still wearing all the maternity clothes I had because it's all that fits me since I gained so much weight.

I still have this belly.  If you didn't know me you'd probably assume I was about 4 or 5 months pregnant.  The maternity stuff I have to wear certainly isn't helping that.  I've been a plethora of sizes in my life but I honestly can't recall weighing this much or being this big.  I'm not ashamed of my body, but my body is making it hard for me to find clothing that fits the way I want it to.  And that is making it really hard for me to feel pretty right now.  And the depressive nature of all of this, and the reminder of having to wear maternity clothing is certainly adding another layer to my grief.  And every day I feel less and less like the rainbow sherbet I always imagine I am, and more and more like boring vanilla... not even good vanilla... like the cheap stuff with horrible ice crystals stuck to it and a terrible freezer taste, but you deal with it anyways because it's all you've got... that boring vanilla.  I don't care so much about being fat... fat can be exercised away.  But the thought of being (of looking) boring makes me feel ill.

My pursuit today was long and fruitless.  I spent the entire day trying stuff on.  Sweating like a pig in H&M (seriously, what is up with that place being like a sauna?), being sorely disappointed in Old Navy, finding absolutely nothing at all my favorite thrift stores, having a hard time of it in Target, and then finally being brought to tears in a smelly dressing room in Ross.  I found a pair of jeans at a thrift store for three bucks that probably won't fit me for another month or so because of the belly, and two regular old t-shirts at Target to replace the maternity ones that are useless now that I've slobbered oily salad dressing on them. 

Sigh.

I am tired of this.  A really deep and sad kind of tired that reaches back into my teenage history.  I didn't have the answer to it then, and I still don't.  All I know is that it's a million times harder now that I'm also dealing with losing Wolfie.  I know that life is forever changed for me, but I was once the girl with blue hair.  I was once a force to be reckoned with sporting knee-high Dr. Martens and a fist full of ideas.  I was once a bad-ass mamma jamma... and you could tell with just one glance.  Even then I drove my parents crazy with my pursuit to express my true self outwardly, and I guess now the fight lives on.   But some days I get tired of fighting... and I cry for a while in a dressing room.


Ben and I plan to join a gym really soon.  We both know that it will help us to have healthy minds if we are pursuing healthy bodies as well.   I look forward to eating healthier and hopefully going back to my pre-pregnancy size or maybe better.  But I'm not the kind of girl who likes to wait to buy pretty clothes for when the "goal" is reached.  I want to feel pretty NOW.  There's no reason to wait for it.  I can feel pretty now and then when the weight is gone I can feel pretty then too.  May as well be greedy about it and have pretty clothes no matter what because for me feeling pretty and loving on myself and pampering my outside helps me to feel even better on the inside... and when I feel good on the inside I'm more likely to stick to an exercise or healthy eating plan. 

But when you spend all day trying to find some "pretty" that fits and you don't find it... well... that's a major let down. 

I left Ross after pulling myself together and decided to head home.  I got in the car and when I started it up a Fleet Foxes song came on right at the beginning of the song.  It's this song off their new album and it (for some reason) reminds me of Wolfie. 

I like to think that things happen for a reason and I was meant to hear that song in it's entirety on my drive home after feeling so low.   It made me reflect on what happened today a little deeper, and it put my mind at ease just a little bit.  The lyrics mix with thoughts of my baby boy and when the song changes at the end my mind is high up in the clouds, wandering through the future when I get to see him again. 

And then, pretty dresses and dressing room mirrors seem so far away.  A left-over belly and a hopeless day of retail torture seem easier to endure. 

What are all these small issues, anyways, compared to the big things? 

And nothing fits me.