Dressing Rooms
I cried in a dressing room today. As I started to write this, I realized it’s probably not that unusual for women to cry in dressing rooms. It’s a very vulnerable place; you’re alone, you’re undressed, and you’re trying to find what works for your body. And our bodies are always changing. Gaining weight, losing weight, hormonal changes, pregnancy, and menopause all change our bodies, and sometimes it’s really hard to accept that we can’t always wear what we want to wear.
It takes a lot of time and practice to learn what looks good on our own body type. And somehow, as soon as we learn the styles that work best for us, we hit a growth spurt or we get knocked up or we get prescribed a new med that causes weight gain, and our bodies change, and we have to learn a whole new style. Even if our bodies return to what they were before, the fashion trends have probably changed by then, and it’s still something you have to re-learn. It’s a never-ending process! And sometimes, when you’re alone in a dressing room, you see what you’ve picked up, and you just long for the body you used to have so you don’t have to go through this again; so you can wear what you know you like, and you don’t have to see your body look bad in clothes that don’t fit.
Because as women, we internalize that. For some reason we think that a number or a letter on a tag means more than it does. We think that if we can’t fit into that S, then we’re fat and we’ve failed as a woman to be the small, cute things we’re conditioned to believe we are supposed to be. It’s brutal. All of this shit happens in our heads in that tiny dressing room. I’m curious to know how many of us end up emotionally overwhelmed and crying in those tiny spaces.
On top of all those ‘normal’ dressing room issues, today I was crying about having to spend money on clothes, period. I recently took a new job where I need ‘business casual’ attire. I used to own this wardrobe, but got rid of most of it because I thought I’d never work in an office again. Also, I make clothes! I don’t buy them! The last time I bought clothes was over a year ago; I needed new jeans, and I don’t make jeans. Everything else I make, and I make it because I want to wear it.
But there I was, in a dressing room, trying on clothes I needed, but had absolutely no desire to own or wear. I bought a pair of khakis for fuck’s sake! I loathe khakis. Why did I buy something I hate? Why was it necessary to buy something I didn’t want? Why was I even there? That tiny dressing room adventure sent me into an existential crises. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my brain around it. It wasn’t just about the clothes, but the job itself, and I have yet to be able to articulate why this job is creating emotional havoc. All I know is that everything in my gut and soul is telling me it’s not my path. But rationally, logically, I have to do it; there is no other choice, and I should be grateful I even have this path to take. For some reason, I cannot get my mind and body on the same page. I’m torn, and today it manifested as crying a fit in dressing room. And now I kinda wish it was just about feeling fat.
