I treated myself to some Whole Foods hot bar for lunch and some much needed shopping on Valentines Day. I love myself so much that I broke down and bought myself my first pair of skinny jeans. I will be wearing them out in public tomorrow. Watch out, RVA, can you handle the hotness? But seriously, I will probably be ultra self conscious for most of the day.
Why is it that it is so satisfying to wear new clothes? You're still the same person and yet a thin layer of cloth can make your day. Today I wore a new shirt and another new pair of jeans that I bought and it was as though I was wearing armor.
Buying clothes for myself has some added meaning as shopping with my mother was usually a self deflating event. She would insist I wear a size or two bigger than was needed for my rather slight frame. Even to this day, my mother will ask what size jeans I'm wearing and she will make excuses for why I fit into them: "Oh, they must make those big." Or she'll ask if I tried on a size bigger before I bought what I'm wearing. Thanks for making me feel like a fatty and projecting your insecurities on to me, Mom. She's lucky I don't have an eating disorder. She refused to buy anything that cost over $30 for me unless it was a winter coat. Anything over $20 required arm twisting. She would insist on the cheapest, baggiest clothes for me. Of course I like to get a great bargain, but I'm more concerned about the quality of the item I'm buying. All my mother can see is the price tag. And apparently the fat rolls that are invisibly clinging to my sides.
Purchasing an article of clothing for myself that fits and that is made with quality fills not only a physical need, but an additional emotional void that's been gaping since I was old enough to understand how backwards my mother approached clothing me.