Monday, December 24, 2012

I blew up like Aunt Marge

Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you need to get something done, but you can't? When I have them, often every time I try to do something, I fall into water. That probably means something, but I have idea what.

I don't always fall into water, though. Sometimes I have a dream where nothing I own fits me. I try on something and it doesn't fit so I try on something bigger and it doesn't fit either. I go through item after item in my closet and no matter what size is on the tag, it doesn't fit.

The other day I had this nightmare only I was awake.

I was at a store trying to get a dress for Mini-Mac's performance. She found one right away but it takes forever for her to try stuff on and I was bored so I decided to get a new party dress too.

I picked out a bunch of size fours and I took them into the dressing room and every one of them fit the same way. Which is to say, they didn't. They mostly fit but I couldn't zip them up the last few inches. But I was okay with that. This seemed to be the kind of place where everything was made in China for tiny women with no chest. So I asked for everything in a size 6.

Except the size sixes didn't fit either. The crazy thing is that they seemed to be just as small as the size fours. The gap I couldn't get the zipper up was just as wide in the bigger size as it had been in the smaller size. I was upset but I figured I wasn't going to be one of those women who refuse to buy a particularly nice outfit because the number on the tag was bigger than my mental image so I asked for the two dresses that seemed the most promising in a size eight.

I was looking in the mirror while I waited for the new dresses and I swear I looked 10 pounds heavier than I had just 10 minutes before! With every size I went up, I believed I was bigger. I felt like Aunt Marge in that Harry Potter book where he blows her up and she floats away.

And then the worst thing happened... the first size eight didn't fit either.

I was pretty close to hysterics by then. There was no way I could be a size 10! That meant I had gone up three sizes since the last time I had tried on dresses, which wasn't that long ago.

Of course that was insane. I was wearing a pair of jeans that were size two. They were a tight size two but they still fit. Plus, I had weighed myself just two days before and I was no heavier than I had been three months ago. But that was rational. The irrational part of me was convinced I had gained 10 pounds somehow without realizing it.

So I paid for Mini-Mac's dress and I stomped off on the verge of hysteria. If it hadn't been 5 minutes before they closed after a horrible week that had topped off a grueling month, I probably would have tried to figure out what the issue was. I suspect it was a combination of the dresses being cut for less endowed women and that the size eight dress have some laces in the back that needed loosening. I didn't actually try on the other eight so I don't even know that it didn't fit.

This doesn't mean I didn't go home totally convinced that my size four dress that I had originally planned to wear wouldn't fit. I totally did. It's just so weird how we can let these numbers define us.

Of course, my pink dress not only fit, but I got a lot of complements on it and also this past week my scale has consistently showed me two pounds lighter overall, which corresponds to my feeling that my appetite had diminished as my head has healed.

So I haven't been blown up by Harry Potter after all. Or even by brownies and candy. I'm the same size in space I have been for months now. It seems that the only thing that's growing is my insanity over my weight. The more time passes without being able to work out, the crazier I get and the more often I have these episodes where something sets me off.
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