More Body Thoughts

The last couple of years, my internal thermostat has been off.  Way off.  I've always run a bit cold, but it seems I'm running even colder now (like my core is cold somehow).  But I notice in the past couple of weeks, as the weather has fluctuated between the high 40s and mid-80s, sometimes within a single day, I'm a bit warm.  I'm still running pretty cold overall, but when I'm warm, I can't get cool.  (And conversely, when I'm cold, I can't get warm).  It's super annoying to have a body that can't regulate itself. 

All that is to say, I find myself in my familiar conundrum for this time of year: what the heck am I going to wear now it is too warm for boots and sweaters??

At the risk of rank melodrama, a lot of my warm weather clothing hurts my feelings. 

Lemme 'splain. 

Last Friday, I took a ruler and a pair of scissors to my red M7353 (my Pascha dress last year, sadly neglected this year) and cut off the sleeves and shortened it quite a bit.  I had already taken up the hem in the hopes that I would want to wear it shorter, but it still languished in my closet.  I couldn't even bring myself to wear it on Pascha.  Part of the problem is that a red dress is just so very...red.  Part of it is that I'm not really in love with the M7353 anymore, although I couldn't say why.  It's a flattering style on me, and comfortable, but I just feel very "meh" in it.

I put it on and took a couple of pictures, and while I wouldn't say I felt awesome in the altered dress, I did feel different in my body in that moment.  A bit more...powerful, perhaps.  Like: See?  I have arms and legs.  Get over it.  I've spent a lot of my adult life feeling ashamed about my body.  There are a myriad of reasons for this, most of which I'm not going to share publicly, but suffice to say, I'm climbing a mountain of baggage to work through it.

Powerful is not a word I would use to describe my feelings about my body lately.  I have not felt awesome in my body.  I had a couple of pieces in my late winter/early spring rotation that felt great, but as the weather has turned a bit more balmy, I find I'm at loose ends with it all.  All my Everyday Skirts make me feel bloated and whale-like, and I only have my two fitted denim skirts for warmer weather.  (And frankly, one of the denim skirts has major fit issues that I can't figure out).

I love the color of this skirt, and it looks great as long as I don't move at all in it.  Otherwise, it poofs and the waistband rolls, and I'm generally fussing with it all.the.livelong.day.  Pretty much the story of my Everyday skirts right now.

I'm between sizes in ready-to-wear and most of my me-made clothes are sloppy.  It's a weird place to be--having almost no clothes I want to wear (and fit well), and really no idea of what to make or buy to replace them.

Stasia Savasuk would say to just try things until something clicks, and to use my power words to feel good about it, but I'm struggling.  I've learned to use my words about what I do in the past year or so: "I'm a writer, I work from home," but I'm still working on the body stuff: My body is strong, my body is good, my body has housed five humans. The clothes are wrong, not my body.

But at the end of the day, the body that confronts me in the mirror is not a body I recognize.  The seven or eight pounds I gained last summer continue to hang around, and I fear I'm just continuing to gain.  I hate that I give the number on the scale so much power over me.  It's just a number.  The questions I should be asking are: do I feel strong in this?  Does this feel quirky?  Does it feel whimsical and interesting?  Powerful?  Does it make my today body feel loved and appreciated?

I've also been having a think about why I only feel good in my body when it feels "small" to me.  Sometimes this is literal--the size tag on the garment is small (or a lower number), sometimes it is more ephemeral--I just "feel" small in something.  Because big feels wrong somehow.  Why is that?  Why do I have this voice in my head telling me that it is wrong to take up too much space in the world?  What is "too much" anyway?  Why is "big" or expansive (by whatever definition) somehow less dignified or worthy?

Today I pulled out every piece of clothing I own and put it on.  (Well, most of it).  I looked at it in the mirror and assessed how everything felt on my body, and how things fit and looked.  Turns out that a big chunk of it needs to go.  Some of it just didn't fit me that well (either too big or too small, or too poofy, or needed more alteration than I am willing to make), and some of it just didn't suit my aesthetic.  With 40 staring me in the face, I find my tastes are changing rapidly.  Which is fine, because my bins were feeling a bit full.  The price of going through a transition within yourself is that it often manifests in the closet somehow.

It's not really about the clothes.  But it is, because we all have to get dressed every day.  So I'm going to give myself some grace about the flux of fabric through my hands these past months, and be grateful that I was able to wear all of it, many times, and look with curiosity to what this next phase will bring, sartorially and otherwise.