Posted by melagee on August 5, 2011
I went for a bra-fitting today. My bras always tend to feel snug, and I’ve heard enough stories of revelation from other women who went for a fitting and found out they’ve been wearing the wrong bra for years. I’ve never been fit before, so I was prepared for a revelation of my own. And I got one: I’ve been wearing the wrong size. But that’s not what this is about.
A woman took me back into the fitting room and measured under my bust. She eyeballed my cup size and brought me a couple of bras to try on. The fitting room was small and there was no one else there when I started my fitting. The stall I was in had no door, just a curtain, and no matter how much I tugged on it I couldn’t get the curtain to close all the way. Not that it mattered all that much since half the time I was there the curtain was open so the woman fitting me could tug at and adjust my bra.
I am not a thin woman. I have rolls and bulges and extra chin. I am not used to being partially clothed in front of people I’m not planning to sleep with. Yet several women saw me in my bra today. I was mortified. I wanted to hide behind the curtain. I wanted to leave the store and resign myself to painful, ill-fitting bras. I felt like nothing more than a disgusting lump of fat, and I wanted to hide.
And then I thought, fuck that. This is my body. It’s not the greatest body, but it’s mine and I love who I am. Who gives one flying fuck if my belly protrudes? Who cares if my inner-thighs rub together when I walk? Certainly not the woman who was politely and kindly adjusting my straps. Certainly not the woman in the next stall who was exclaiming over how large her cup size was. Not a single person in that shop even looked at me funny, and why would they? I was a woman in a bra in a lingerie store. I was in no way special to anyone there, and any body issues were my own.
I go through a minor version of this every morning. I get dressed, notice that my belly fat is still showing through whatever I’m wearing, wonder if I should wear something else, and think, fuck it. I know women who refuse to wear tank tops because they think their arms are too fat. Fuck that. If it’s hot, I’m wearing a tank top. I know women who refuse to wear skirts because they think their knees are too ugly. Fuck that. Skirts are pretty and I’m wearing them. I will wear bathing suits and yoga pants and knee socks and corsets and dresses both long and short and when I feel myself starting to worry that people will notice how dark my armpits are, I will say, Fuck that. My hope is that someday I will skip over the self-doubt completely, stop cursing so much, and get the hell on with my day.