I can only imagine the sleepless nights so many of you have spent wondering if I ever did find a dress to wear to my niece’s wedding in Las Vegas next week, or if I am going to be wearing a pair of bedazzled overalls. For those of you who maybe don’t read my blog regularly, or who suffer from short-term memory loss, here is a link to the post I am referring to.
Well, my friends, tonight you can sleep. I ordered a dress and it arrived today, just in time for the wedding next Thursday, because I am nothing if not a totally irresponsible procrastinator. LUCKILY, it is fabulous and I am so glad I made the choice I did. Here is a picture
It’s the “Whimsy Wrap Dress” by Kiyonna and it is LOVELY. I love the shoes pictured also, but the ones I will be wearing are purple. It might seem a bit odd to wear purple and black to a wedding, but my niece’s signature colors (shout out to Steel Magnolias) are lilac and violet, or lavender and amethyst. She likes purple, so we are all either wearing purple or accenting with purple. The black is because it is an evening wedding and it’s VEGAS, BABY.
I did find a purple dress that I liked, but when I mentioned to my mom that I didn’t think I would wear it again, she told me that maybe my other niece would be getting married in a few years. I then had the vision of being known as “that crazy aunt who always wears that one purple dress to family weddings” and I just couldn’t do it. I am sure I’m already known as the “crazy aunt who left a turkey in the trunk of her car for weeks” or the “crazy aunt who threw a pancake at her dad”, I just didn’t want to push it with the purple dress.
Something I found interesting about my last post about looking for a dress is the reaction it received. That post was re-blogged twice and got quite a few likes and comments, all of which I appreciate greatly. I was actually so surprised that it got the attention that it did that I went back and read it again to see what all the fuss was about. From what I can gather, it’s odd for a woman to write about finding a dress in her size, a size that is actually pretty prevalent in the United States, rather than writing about lamenting the fact that she is looking for a dress in that size.
I freely admit that I am comfortable in my skin. Hell, that phrase is in my online dating profile. In all reality, I probably shouldn’t be. I grew up playing with Barbie dolls, for far FAR longer than I should have. I just never remember looking at her and thinking that I was “less than” because I was “more than” (I’m hilarious). I can imagine my mom is a big reason why I grew up feeling pretty secure. My whole family, actually.
Of course, I do remember things that were not so good at building my confidence. In elementary school I remember a kid who called me a whale at the bus stop. I hit that kid over the head with my trapper keeper and knocked him on his ass. I also remember being called “the queen of whales” when I was in my early 20′s by some douchey frat boy. Sadly, I did not have my trapper keeper with me in the bar, so I just walked away from him. One of my biggest regrets is that I did not throw a drink on him. I just now realized writing this out that they both called me a whale. Points for creativity, mean boys.
Once, years ago, I remember being at a pool party for one of my nieces’ graduation (sorry, cannot remember which one) and seeing a woman wearing a yellow bikini. Not so odd, in itself, but the woman was pretty large. Her body would not have been deemed “bikini ready” by whoever is on staff at People magazine who makes such proclamations, yet, there she was, rocking the hell out of that bikini. People were looking at her and whispering, pretty loudly, about her, but she did not seem to notice. I have no idea what made that woman say to hell with the people who would talk about her, and stare at her, but I remember thinking that I knew women half her size who were not that comfortable with their bodies. I wanted to hug her, but I ended up just creepily smiling at her all day.
I know body acceptance is all over the place right now. I see a lot of things like “real women have curves” and yes, we do. Real women ALSO don’t have curves, or are medium-sized, or are short or tall, and everything in between. There is no perfect body type that we must each fit in to be considered “real women”. I get the logic behind the saying, it just harkens back to the thought that in order to make ourselves feel good, we need to drag others down, and no, we don’t.
I would like to say that I didn’t hold on to the bad things, but here I am recalling them some many years later. The thing is, I have learned that other people do not define me or get to tell me what I should think of myself. I get to do that, and I define myself as pretty awesome. You all should too.