Many of us have them, even if we’re not currently trying to lose weight: a special pair of jeans, a little black dress, a bathing suit we did/could feel great wearing.  A piece of clothing that simply doesn’t fit, but might, someday, or did, once upon a time, is hanging in the back of a million closets.

In mine I’ve got the dress I wore to my high school graduation - a micro mini funky white cotton jersey that I can’t believe the principal allowed me to wear, even under my graduation gown.  I’ve got a size 10 navy silk blazer that I bought the first time I was living in France.  A size 8 chocolate linen skirt that, when I tried it on ten years ago, made my mother look at me sadly and suggest I might try losing a few pounds.  I’ve got a size 10 business suit I bought to celebrate my first “Director” title, and a size 16 cream-colored pantsuit that somehow avoided the Great Closet Purge of Ought Seven.

And then, yesterday, a neighbor dropped by out of the blue to offer up a new dress, just because it was pretty and made her think of me.   Scarlet and silk and a size 20.  After she left, I hung it in the downstairs closet, next to the light-weight summer jackets, and felt happy to have a new goal garment - a new, attainable, goal, just a size below what I’m wearing now.

And then, this evening, after a day spent in bed with a migraine, with my matted hair and my unshaven legs, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try it on.  I lifted it up over my head and felt it fall, gracefully, just skimming my hips, lightweight and flowing, brushing up against my calves as I twirled in front of the full-length mirror.  I felt pretty.

I figured, what the hell, put on a bra, and took a picture.

I’m not a super model.  I’m coming to terms with the idea that I’ll never be a super model, not even a super-size-super-model, but I’m pleased with my brand new goal:

Find an excuse to wear my pretty new red dress.

Posted by Kat on Thursday, January 10th, 2008 at 8:07 pm.