Am I the only woman in the world that hates clothes shopping? Wait, whaaaaaat?
This post is probably one of the riskiest that I, as an individual, am writing. Well, if by risky we’re referring to “open” and “honest,” then, okay. I’m not writing as Lisette the Singer, nor am I writing as Lisette the Wife. I guess I’m writing as Lisette the Individual.
five-day weekend in Florida, I went shopping with my mother in law. We hit the usual stores she likes, and I ducked into the store I like for its petite section: LOFT. Normally I’ll try on clothes. This time I took one look at myself and just wanted to walk out and not look back.
Let me clarify this a bit so you understand where I’m coming from. I am not an obese woman. Overweight for sure, but not obese. Yet, I can’t bring myself to enjoy clothes shopping.
Is it low self-esteem? Not in the very least. It’s more of a cross between not wanting to spend money on clothes and not thinking my body is worthy of new clothes. It’s like…I haven’t lost the weight I’ve been wanting to lose, so I’m not going to reward myself with nice clothes…even though I’m sure my husband thinks all I own are yoga pants and oversized tees.
Does it make sense? Absolutely not. I can’t wrap my head around it. My mother-in-law and I will go shopping and, even if she’s offering to buy me clothes, most times I can’t bring myself to try them on. One glance at myself in the mirror and I’m just utterly disgusted at what I see. It’s almost to the loathing level. And I’m not even talking about the dressing room mirrors. I’m talking about the ones on the floor.
But then I see bloggers like Mama Laughlin who look like life-size Barbies and I see a little glimmer of hope. I see others like Shanna and Lauren, who always look fabulous, and I want to dress a little like them. But not quite yet.
My excuse? Oh, when I lose weight I’ll buy clothes. I’ve been telling myself this for almost three years now. Three! I’m literally wasting away my “youth” in old clothes. Sure, I’ve bought a new dress or dress shirt here and there. But “going shopping” for me is a memory I have of my college years where life was a little more carefree, and coincidentally enough, I was not only busier, but I was also more fit. Back then I dressed for performing on stage. I was used to all eyes being on me.
All I know is, I’m tired of looking in the mirror and being unhappy with what I see. Hair, weight, clothes. I’m tired of looking “blah.” I’m tired of feeling “blah.” Sometimes when I think “This is the best you’ll look because you don’t have kids yet” I REALLY start despairing. Can you say masochist?
I’m thinking maybe I need to get a haircut and some highlights to recharge how I see myself.