Spring time: the time of year when women suddenly feel chubby

Spring time has arrived. Well, sort of. In Alberta, Canada, spring simply means that sometimes we can see the grass through the snow. And with the arrival of our sub-par spring season, I have found myself modelling my summer clothes and posing in front of the mirror like an asshole.

The experience has been disappointing.

I don't think I've gained any weight in comparison to where my weight was last year, but every spring I shed my winter clothes and pull on something revealing and cross my fingers that I will suddenly look like a super model. At minimum fit into my vintage, tiger print halter top that I wore in 2004 when I worked out at the gym for two hours every day. And every year I gasp. My. God. When did I stop having tight lower abs? When did I develop chub around my armpits? Ohhh, so these are love handles.

I don't mind having a little extra curvaceousness to my figure. Sex is more fun. Okay, minus the endurance factor. I always did like boobies, too. Just ask my mom, who probably spent most of the 80's wondering if her Lil' Lojo was really a lil' lesbian. However, there are certain parts of my body where I would greatly appreciate a little more definition.

The fact that I have not whole heartedly updated my wardrobe definitely contributes to the awkwardness I feel about my curves. I have not even mourned my 2004-2005 wardrobe, let alone let go of it. I am trying though, and can proudly say that I have three garbage bags awaiting a trip to the local women's shelter. But the problem runs deeper than that, as I still have not totally given up the freedom I once had to wear pretty much whatever style of clothing I wanted. For example, I recently bought a skin-hugging red tube top from a thrift store. It kind of fits. Sort of. I bought it on the premise that maybe it would go with a certain pair of pants I bought not so long ago. It doesn't, at least not to the point where I feel like I am rockin' it. So I am now holding on to it as another goal item, like if I just lose five to ten pounds or start doing regular resistance training again, then I will totally rock it. It could happen.

I went shopping alone last week with closet rejuvenation in mind, something I rarely ever do. I went to H&M and tried on some dresses and skirts in a size eight. Apparently I don't fit their size eight criteria. When I hit twenty-five I found that the only stores that size their clothing to fit average woman with a little T N' A specialize in business attire. Business attire for middle aged women. Just because I am in my late twenties and am living without an eating disorder, doesn't mean I am no longer interested in buying fashionable street wear. And don't even get me started on how fashion marketing is monumentally screwing plus size girls. Nonetheless, I walked away from H&M with a few loose fitting tank tops that go with the grungy, I-don't-give-a-fuck, this is my band shirt, look at how it accentuates my second-hand jeans, want to meet my pyramid belt? look I've been projecting since 2008. And through most of my high school years.

Feeling defeated and unsexy, I went to a store that I've never been in before. I can't remember what it's called, so I will just call it Slut(!). Since I knew upon walking into Slut! that the sizes would be marketed towards fifteen year old girls who have not yet blossomed into their womanhood, ('cause who else would a store that screams PROVOCATIVE or LETS GO CLUBBING market their clothing towards?), I accepted my fate and didn't even bother with my usual size medium. A size medium which, not so long ago, was a size small. I went with the larges. I picked up a mini dress and a mini skirt, 'cause sometimes a lady has just gotta feel like a slut. The cheerful sales girl started a change room for me, and as I entered my clothing store prison cell I realized that I wasn't just in any clothing store prison cell, I was in the hole; I was in a change room without a mirror. I put my head in my hands as I slaughtered the Lord's name with profanity. Why? WHY? WHY MUST THEY DO THIS? Accepting my fate, I squeezed into the mini dress and slid my hands over my body. No awkward bulging or chub protrusions. I pulled out my Blackberry and tried to catch myself in the reflection of its screen. That was a failure. Now that I think of it, I should have just taken a picture of myself in the mirror with the camera phone. *NOTE TO SELF FOR NEXT TIME*.  I felt a little more comfortable with the mini skirt. Both were relatively cheap, so I decided to live on the edge and I took them both up to cash to buy my way out.

The cheerful girl swiped my Visa and called me "hon". And despite the fact that I was nothing but a sweetheart to her and we shot the shit for a few minutes, the next girl who is younger than I am who refers to me as "hon" will get punched in the face. And if she knows that she is younger than I am and still calls me "hon", I will wedgie her thong so far up her ass that it damages her sphincter.

I took the clothes home and tried them on again to see what they actually look like. Neither are a disaster. I think the mini-skirt is do-able with the right top. The dress works, too, although I was surprised to realize that the fabric under the horizontal ruffles is actually sheer. Slut sheer. Sheer as in I am not sure if I can wear underwear with it. Or wear it without getting arrested. Or, at minimum, contributing to the assault charge and consequent arrest of my boyfriend. However, I did manage to classy it up with my boyfriend blazer.

Strike a Pose 1:

As I stood in front of my netbook trying to catch this image, I tugged and I squeezed and I tugged and I squeezed again. Then I realized that my magic box was showing. Britney Spears style. So I tugged and I squeezed some more to avoid Squarespace from disabling my website due to pornographic imagery. It became quite clear that this dress will not be a wardrobe staple of mine. So, like any true, retired fashionista, I improvised.

Strike a Pose 2:

 'Cause the one great thing about a mini dress it that it can be transformed into a much more versatile tunic top. And yes, those are my infamous break up boots.

Strike a Pose 3:

Here I am rockin' the mini skirt. You may be able to take the girl out of the band shirt, but you can never take the band shirt out of the girl.

I am not unhappy with my figure, but I am still getting used to it, especially in regards to wardrobe shopping. And, of course, parting with much beloved clothing articles. When I was less curvaceous and wore revealing clothes I still felt as though I was portraying a respectable image. Now when I wear revealing clothing I feel like a video girl from Ludacris' What's Your Fantasy video.

Laura asked me if I'd be interested in doing a work-out boot camp with her, and I was all like hell yes, Rainbow Sunshine, hell yes. The prospect of increasing my endurance and muscle tone seems extremely attractive right now, and I think it will create a lovely package to wrap in that red tube top that keeps heckling me from within my closet.

Comments

[Twitch]

UGH, I know. This winter I packed on a tiny bit more weight than I should have. I'm blaming most of it on the BCP, but let's be honest, I haven't really left the house for anything except work and school, and I'm not self-motivated enough to "work out" at home. Then my plan was to ride my bike to work everyday, but 11 km is excessive and I scrapped that. However, I do still plan to ride my bike a few times a week, just for that exercise. Now the trick is to actually DO it.

[Dalton]

Curvaceous is much better, I know it can be a bitch buying clothes and such but I find Boneracks to be quite sickening. Yeah it's tough maintaining a figure as one gets older but you look like you're doing great. You are a stunner Vagisil and also, your class shines through in this chapter to your blog.
I love you :)

Anusol