Saturday, May 7th, 2011

radiumgirl: (awkward teddy)
 I was so happy, you guys. SO HAPPY. 

Cut for episode spoilers and hardcore speculation for the rest of the season.

Cas is still a shitty liar. )
 
radiumgirl: (kobra kid)
 Once upon a time, I was a concave human being.

I wasn't always concave. It took alot of work to get there. I am not one of the fortunate few (Jared Padalecki, I'm looking at you, and envying your metabolism) who was birthed into the world with any sort of genetic "gifts." My mother's family is full of round people and my father's family is full of short people and together, they make a Radium Girl, which is, at heart, a rather slothful creature who enjoys donuts and lattes and binge drinking. Her default shape is akin to that of a Snooki. 

But oh, for one brief, shining period of about two years during undergrad, I was concave. I spent hours at the gym, everyday. I only ate green things. I didn't drink. My arms were toned. My ass was cute. And I could see my hipbones, which I named Frenchie and Rizzo. 
 
I bought a black string bikini, the first bikini I had owned since I was three. It's still shoved in my bottom drawer. I stubbornly refuse to throw it out because I have a dream that someday, I will be able to poke Frenchie and Rizzo again. 
 
I feel like that time has come. On Thursday, I went dress-shopping with Chrissy in the South Side for the wedding I'm going to in a few weeks. We're big H & M fans. The last time we were there, I saw a dress that I wanted for the wedding. I kept it in mind, and when I had the money, we went back. On Thursday. It was lacy and yellow with a cinched waist. I grabbed another dress as a back-up plan, red and ruffled and sleeveless. I skipped merrily to the dressing room. 
 
I grabbed size 12 because that's usually what I wear. I couldn't get either of them over my boobs. 
 
I went back and grabbed another red dress, in 14. I got it over my boobs, wiggled as I tried to get the hem over my hips. 
 
No dice. 
 
I tried stepping into the dress. 
 
Nada. 
 
I double checked the tag.  Maybe I had a dyslexic moment? I mean, how could a 14 not fit? Even at my most Snooki-esque, a 14 was fine. 

I didn't misread the tag. I went back to the floor and looked for a 16. There wasn't one. I asked an attendant if they carried any of their dresses in 16. She said, "Our sizes only go up to 14 in dresses and large in casual."
 
Oh. 
 
So, what you're saying is that I'm very close to being unable to shop here. For dresses, at least. In casual-wear, I'm still firmly entrenched in sizes medium and 10. And Chrissy, noting my panic, immediately pointed out, "Hey, dresses are weird. Don't worry about it."
 
But I did worry about it. I remember how easy getting dressed was back in my concave days. Everything fit. Everything looked good. There was no agonizing in front of the mirror for twenty minutes over every little lump and bump. 
 
I got stopped in the mall once, when I was concave. I was just walking past the food court, minding my own business. I was just wearing jeans and flip-flops and a blue and white striped baby-tee. I was around size 4 at this time. A boy randomly came up to me, college-age (music major, I later found out), and stopped me. 
 
"I just wanted to say that you're stunning."
 
I, of course, was completely like WTF, "Thank you?"
 
"This is weird. I'm sorry. I just...I just wanted to tell you that."
 
"Oh. Wow." I managed to grin like an idiot, "Thank you!"
 
We actually traded phone numbers (this was before Owen) and went on a few dates before it fizzled out. He had family issues. I was just coming out of an exceptionally bad relationship. We stopped things before they got bad and parted ways amicably and I still smile when I think of our strange little first encounter at the mall. 

Two months later, Owen slid into the seat in front of mine in the Adventureland break room and said, "Its so refreshing to see a beautiful girl reading something more intelligent than Cosmo in here," and the rest is history. 
 
Now, Owen doesn't say much about the 20 pounds I've packed on since that day in the break room. For one thing, he's gained some weight too. He's realized it though. He recently had to get one of his suits re-tailored and he's freaking out, but putting that anxiety to good use. He's been jogging and hitting the weight room and he joined an ultimate frisbee league in Kalamazoo. Whenever I make disparaging comments about my own weight, he's always quick to say "You're still pretty."
 
But the dress-shopping fiasco was my final straw.  I've already cut back on my binge drinking, and drinking in general. I'm proud of that. It was definitely a big problem. In a way, it still is. Everyday, on the way home from work, I have to make a conscious effort not to go to the liquor store. Every week, when I do Happy Hour with Chrissy, I have to make an effort not to have more than two or three beers. 
 
My willpower is constantly getting a workout. 
 
And its about to get worse. 
 
Now it's time to tackle everything else. I don't have the time to just jog for hours and hours and hours anymore. I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to do it, honestly. I also hate jogging outside, but I don't have a treadmill, or gym membership, so I don't have much choice. But I'll suck it up. I'll figure it out. I'll make this work. 
 
Later, kids. 
 
 

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