Long lost letter to my wardrobe :

Long lost letter to my wardrobe :

11/12/14

Dear Darling Wardrobe:

For years, I’ve added garments to you. I always give while you simply, TAKE, take, take.

Your extensive piles of vomited old clothing all around my bedroom-they never shrink-as I never lose

my faith in You wardrobe. This unwavering faith, that someday I might become a size L again or fit into a

lovely discarded size 14 prom style dress, that I wore so moon moons ago to my 10th year high school reunion.

Some garments are relics of a past, which I must cling to, such as my wedding gown or my College graduation robe from Grad school that was so damn expensive. Dear wardrobe, many items are too small or ripped or torn.

I swear I will mend those socks with the huge gaping holes at their heels, or the see-through silky overcoat with the many rainbow holes. I swear to fix these things but I am a liar. And you and I both know this.

I tell myself I must keep several things a size too small or a size too large, just in case my weight changes.

But my weight for the most part, stays Stoic, Stable and Steady. I have accepted my body, I tell myself. Gorgeous is not a size,I tell myself it’s an attitude, a way of life.

But if I were honest, we both know what I would do. I would swallow my pride whole, and piece by piece

reduce you. I would rid myself of the too small Mom-jeans, of the socks who have no friends, of the outdated out of style size 14 dresses that I own.I would throw away all the holey things, I do not fix and I do not wear.

The clothes too big or too small I would gather into trash bags and deposit them at Good Will.

Think of the room I would save if I just said goodbye to all the ugly sweaters that look much better folded or fallen on the floor than on my size 2x frame? My dear darling wardrobe, many times,I have cursed you, when I cannot find:

Anything to Wear!!!

My husband he dislikes you, for taking some much space away from Us-as you occupy bins, dressers, closets and laundry baskets stockpiled everywhere. Like nuclear bombs from a desert test site, generations ago. Like a possessed Demon, Devil or unfriendly Spirit you haunt us daily by the mere sight of you.Somehow, I must gain access to the sword I carry in my mind’s eye and chop you down bit by bit, down to size, down to MY SIZE, a plus size 2x.

But these things are never easy. Breaking up is hard to do.

I must do something before your hugeness, like a whale, swallows our bedroom whole. Leaving nothing but piles of colored fabric in its wake, trembling at its seams.Dear Wardrobe, I think it would be best if we both started seeing other people.

Or at least, if you saw other people, and if I saw better fitting clothing and less of a mess, tragedy on my bare floor.

I’m sorry Wardrobe for all the lies I fed you. But you lied to me too. You said I would lose all this weight. You told me I definitely would drop down to my high school frame of a size 9 or 11. You said these horrible half-truths, so what’s a girl to do? I trusted you. I believed in you. Not anymore, because the scale always unwaveringly stays stuck between 200-210.

I can no longer pretend. The game is over. I must try to go through you-and shield my eyes-from your outrageous lies and half baked half truths.

Sincerely yours,

a plus sized woman 

a Gorgeous Woman.

The Stranger in my Mirror.

      Sometimes Shocking to see,

the Stranger in my Mirror, who looks like Me. I recall younger days, thinner versions,

Once upon a time, I was most likely,

just as cocky as Miley-

just not as famous.

What do you do? Once you lose that smooth small stomach,

the perky C bra breasts, the stride in your step, the seduction upon your hips,

the fullness of your lips, when the age of youth disappears,

and you become a M’mam instead of a Miss?

When you look into the mirror, and a stranger sits?

Glaring back at you, dimly-reminding you faintly,

that beauty lies in the beholder-instead of the girth of your thighs.

I am blessed to look many years younger-than I really am.

It’s a trick of my Mothers gene pool.

Wrinkles and gray hair do not scare me-no way-anyway.

I really do not mind.

But sometimes, I look at the Stranger in my Mirror-

and can’t help but think,

I am rocking middle age, despite my Venus Size.

I can still feel beautiful even when there is,

a media war, a rampage of BMI’s, a negativity upon

the average woman who is judged to be

“Plus-sized.” I can still feel my beauty, when my husband

looks at me that way, he once did all those years ago,

into the land of yesterday.

 

You ate what???

ridiculous,
righteousness
reveals=revelery.

rock and roll…
and, here we go;
Beauty Queen,

aged by Gravity-
expanded by:
personal growth

and swallowing whole,
an entire
personal fitness coach—-gulping them down whole-
gulping them down

snake-wise style.

clearly, the only explanation,
for jumping jacks for numbers between,
size 3-23.

What has happened to the REAL ME?
Did I eat her entirely and completely,
away?

Never Once a Beauty Queen,
much more,
a Beauty Scream.

Nothing shocks like
Lightening Rocks.

The devil’s in the details

I’ve never been a believer,

in Satan, nor the devil per say,

but if there really is one,

he was hanging out with me today.

I say the devil made me do it!

That’s the only logical conclusion,

I can muster.

All years, of being constantly,

be-raided about being overweight,

mostly by doctors and “professionals”-

by repeatedly and redundantly beaten

by the number of my BMI-

I decided to exercise. (the devil made me do it!)

After not walking for health, or dogs or exercise,

in any shape or form, for over a year,

my plus size over 200lbs woman self-

said what the hell? Let’s walk 3 miles.

This overlooks a number of factors:

I am badly out of shape.

I suffer from chronic-bronchitis.

I smoke at least 2 packs of cigarettes a day.

None-the-less…3 miles, in the midday noon SUN,

sounded fun, initially, even though my inner brain

tried to suggest logically, well why not first just one mile today?

I squashed that reasonable thought flat,

with a deeper inner voice,

which was shouting,

you are FAT.

Needless to say, the trek was not “enjoyable.”

I sweated through my hair,

I gasped and coughed for air,

I formed a small annoying blister

onto my right foot’s heel.

When I reached my 1.5 mile mark,

I lit a cigarette which I quickly

realized did not help matters any.

The walk back, just was not as fast.

All the air went right out of my tire.

Despite the urge to become thin-

being my up-most desire..

I realized that this is gonna take,

quite a well.

Knowing full-well logically that one can

still be plus size and quite ravishing,

it’s just that, it is not me.

I have been wearing that skin 6 or 7 years now at least,

but it was never where I did begin.

My troubles with weight did not start until my late 20’s and early 30’s.

If I had had to deal with being an overweight kid or teen,

I think I could accept myself bit by bit,

but in my case the opposite was true-I was always this

small thin person, 5″4 120-135 lbs.

Once I started gaining though,

it was like a tidal wave, a hurricane, an unstoppable

force of nature hit me, an incoming storm something

almost unimaginable to myself,

I almost doubled in size,

to somebody I do not recognize.

I have a wonderful husband,

he still tells me I’m beautiful, sexy even,

but I cannot believe him-it’s not that I think

he would ever lie to me, it’s clear he loves,

me -no matter-what size,

but I have issues with it-

compounded by well-meaning doctors 

who simply tell me “lose weight” and

“quit smoking” but never tell me just how in

the hell I’m gonna do that?

The devil you see,

is in the details.

And the details?

They confound me.