Somewhere between winter of 2022 and winter of 2023, I went up a full pants size. It felt like it happened overnight - I tried on my favorite pair of olive green, raw hem, straight leg Frame denim and it was like they had turned into skinny jeans. Nothing about them fit or felt right.
I tried on a few more pairs, same result.
I started to spiral. What happened? I’m active, I exercise. I eat healthily. I made plans for workout regimes, Whole 30s, and more steps. I chalked the change up to eating (a lot) of ice cream, pizza and pastries when we started our fertility journey in the spring. You know, indulging yourself and all. Summer equals shorts and by the time I pulled out those beloved pants only to find myself stuffed into them, I was confused.
Because looking in the mirror, I felt healthy. My body was strong and, moreover, I felt that I looked good. And still, the pants didn’t fit. So something must be wrong, right? Something that I should change, right?
A part of me felt I should be embarrassed that I had gained weight. After all, whatever previous weight I was at had to have been my better weight, right?
And, a part of me felt embarrassed that I felt embarrassed. Why couldn’t I just shake it off and embrace my now body?
Sean, ever the practical zen one of our partnership, suggested that perhaps my body was preparing to carry a baby, and gaining weight is one of the ways in which bodies do that.
I grumbled a bit, but grudgingly agreed that this sounded plausible and if that was the reason, I could get behind that (no, still not pregnant).
But even that felt a bit like finding an excuse or rationale for gaining weight. Instead, I wanted to come to the place where I could accept (and embrace) my body for what it looks like and feels like, right now.
I had to actively choose to say: If I think I look good, if I feel good, if I feel strong and healthy in my body - that’s what matters. Regardless of the number on the scale and how that compared to 2022 Sydney, 2020 Sydney or 2010 Sydney.
While it’s easy to type that I chose to accept this statement, I hadn’t really accepted it.
A few months ago in the midst of trying on various outfits for an event and finding nothing that I loved, the pants rage came back. I scowled about the outfits that could have been. I longed for the pants I had so carefully curated for my structure of style wardrobe. I cried that I had nothing to wear and that nothing was working.
And I realized, in that moment, all I had to do was give up the fight. Fighting wasn’t changing my body. The only thing I could do was accept it. And buy some new pants. So I did.
There is a misconception that thinner bodies look better in clothes.
During one of our many conversations about my changing body, Sean said, “I feel like my clothes do fit better when I’m thinner.” I responded, ever the pragmatist, “Well yes, because you’re trying to put a bigger body into smaller clothes. Of course those smaller clothes look better on a smaller body - that’s what they’re made for. When you buy the right sized clothes for your right now body, you’ll look and feel just as good.”
And if you’re over there fighting me on that sentence, what examples can you find of bodies all shapes and sizes that look great in their clothes? Because the internet is full of them! And, the reasons those outfits look so great is because those people have developed their sense of personal taste and are wearing clothes that fit their current bodies and styles, not trying to wear previous versions of themselves.
I chose to finally listen to my own good advice. And that’s when I realized something.
Maybe this is a chance to practice letting how I feel in my body guide how I get dressed instead of letting the clothes dress me. I’m sure my body will change again and I’d rather accept these changes than try to fight them.
That’s not a good look.
And maybe those straight legged, raw hem, olive green jeans are a previous version of me. They had their moment. It’s time for someone else to enjoy them and for me to enjoy something else.