So, a cool thing happened today.
To preface, I’d applied to what sounds like an awesome job opportunity a few weeks ago, and had yet to hear anything back- that is, up until this morning when the director of the department emailed me saying that she had reviewed my resume and cover letter, and thought I’d be a great fit for their team. In fact, she would love if I’d be able to come in for an interview and tour later this week. Buoyed with elation, I replied immediately, accepting the interview offer.
No sooner did I hit ‘send’, did reality set in- I have nothing to wear for this. The last time I interviewed for a job or grad school, I weighed 50+ lbs north of my current weight. My old skirt suit, slacks, and blazer- tired and threadbare from years of being stuffed into carryon suitcases and worn at every interview and professional event of my adult existence- had finally been unceremoniously thrown into a trash bag and deposited into my town’s local Goodwill donation receptacle months ago. Thanks, Marie Kondo.
I browsed through the rest of my closet. I’ve now lost 85lbs from my highest weight, and my clothing situation is a bit sparse at the moment. I’d been a bit of a shopaholic back in the day, mostly because I always worried about finding clothes that would fit, and would be much more likely to scoop up something that fit and looked cute, since plus size options were always a bit hard to find in brick and mortar stores. Well, all of those nice clothes had been packed up and donated months ago. I’m still trying to lose another 50 lbs, and I’ve been hesitant to buy a lot of clothes since I size out of things every other month or so. Which is why my current work wardrobe consists entirely of leggings and shift dresses at the moment- God bless elasticized waists and dresses that can accommodate dropping several sizes before becoming tent-like. They were fine to wear to my current office, but not super appropriate for interviewing for a professional job. I doubt I’d have time to order something online and get it in time- plus, the anxiety of wondering if it would fit as I followed the package tracking number would do me in for sure. There was only one option left- I had to go shopping.
As I stepped into the local shopping mall, my mind immediately went to my options. To make things more complicated, I’m also short and usually need to buy petite plus or get things hemmed. Lane Bryant, my standard go-to for work clothes, was always a bit hit or miss. They would likely have a suit or dress, but it would probably be either lilac colored or have some sort of ridiculous sequin design or weird collar on it. Torrid- I mean, maybe if I was interviewing at a Hot Topic or something, but otherwise I doubted they would have anything appropriate. I checked the plus size sections of Macy’s and Sears and again had no luck. With my panic rising, I surveyed the mall directory to see if I’d missed any other potential options. I’ve never been able to shop in straight-sized stores before. I remember being in high school and wandering around the mall with my friends along with other hoards of teenagers. I would dutifully follow them into Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch while hating every minute of it. I’d walk by Loft, American Eagle, Madewell, and other stores and tell myself that I’d be able to shop there someday, once I finally managed to lose weight.
My eyes drifted to Ann Taylor, with it’s shiny white glass and steel exterior and tastefully displayed professional clothes (and an entire petite section that took up nearly half of the store). I’d never stepped foot in there before- they didn’t offer plus sizes, so why bother? But, desperate times called for desperate measures. As I walked in, I was greeted by an older woman and asked if I needed any help. As always, I hurriedly answered, “No, just looking thanks!” as I walked away. I didn’t really care to have a witness as I realized that I couldn’t fit into the largest size that the store offered. I wandered over to the petite section, which its multitude of cute professional dresses, skirts, blouses, and suits seemingly taunting me. I’d never bought clothes from a regular petite section in my life- I’d always figured it was meant for women with small, slender and bird-like bodies rather than my short and squat physique.
Browsing the racks, it became apparent that the highest sized offered in store was a 14. I think the last time I was a size 14 was somewhere around 8th grade. I grabbed a few dresses, skirts, and blazers in a 14p and slunk away to the dressing room to face more disappointment. Except, the truly unexpected happened- as I pulled the first dress over my head, it slipped easily over my chest, stomach, and hips. In disbelief, I pulled up the zipper in the back and faced the mirror. Holy fuck, it actually fit! It wasn’t too tight or too short, and the sleeves and hem were the perfect length. In disbelief, I pulled on the matching blazer and had a similar result. In fact, everything that I had carted into the dressing room either fit or was too big. It was much a monumental moment in my life that I nearly burst into tears. Instead, I picked my favorite of the outfits and hung the rest on the rack as I left the dressing room. I paid for the dress and blazer and drove home, where I then put them back on in my bedroom along with heels and jewelry and admired myself in my mirror like a preening peacock.
It’s just an outfit, but it signifies so much more. It’s a tangible payoff from the work I’ve been putting in for the past year to finally lose the extra weight that I’ve carried with me my whole life. I hope that the interview goes well and I get the job. But, even if I don’t get an offer, it would still be worth it just for today’s experience in the dressing room.
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