Fighting Back

(A note: I had fogotten that I started drafting this until I came on to do the 06/20/2020 update.  I'm going ahead and posting it because I still like it, but keep in mind, when you get to the next entry and I make reference to my "eight month silence", this was nor originally here.) (because I have so many readers that care so much about my blog consistency...  >_<)

My maternity leave is rapidly dwindling down to nothing, which means that I'll soon need to get back into Working Clothes.  Since tomorrow is Cyber Monday, I decided today would be a good day to put on my big girl pants (as it were) and try on my old work wardrobe to see what needs to be supplemented (and then buy it on discount tomorrow).

It was... not a fun experience.

I'd been feeling pretty good about my body, overall.  Strong and healthy and feeding a baby, and all that, looking pretty good in the clothes I've been wearing (a mix of leggings and the pair of wide-leg Goodwill jeans I picked up a month or so ago paired with a variety of larger-than-my-"normal"-size shirts, and the occasional sweater.)

But, uh, my professional work wardrobe isn't really... "forgiving".

First I tried on the blazers, and was pleasantly surprised that I can definitely keep wearing them, so long as I don't try to close them (nursing boobs are nursing boobs- what are you going to do?)  Then I pulled on one pair of pants after another, none of which are going to work, but I'd expected that (to be honest, the fact that I could even fasten any of them was an unexpected victory, unsightly bulges aside).  Most of the shirts are right out, too (see above re: blazers), but again- expected.  I didn't try any of my sheath dresses, because I am not that great a fool.  But what I did try was a wrap-dress that normally looks quite respectable on me- closer to the business casual end of the spectrum, but pretty sharp.  It fit, but... I looked in the mirror and felt lumpy, frumpy, and the furthest thing from professional you could imagine.  Jerk Brain had a few nasty things to say about my image, I tell you what.

I felt defeated.  And I wanted to cry- not just over how I looked, but over how I felt about how I looked; I talk a good talk about the importance of strength and health over being svelte, yet there I was, being shallow AF about my appearance.

But then I took a deep breath, told Jerk Brain where it could go, and said,

"Self, you're going to have to put in some effort, that's all."

So I took the traitorous dress off (what happened to universally flattering, wrap dress?), and took the time to take down my slept-in-it hair, comb it out, and dress it attractively.  Then I washed my face, put on lotion, and brushed my brows.  I'd planned on putting on mascara, but decided I didn't really need it, so instead on went the glasses, my favorite armor-leggings, and a SERE hoodie that my brother gave me.  And then I added lighting-bolt earrings, just to give myself that extra little ornamentation.

I looked back in the mirror and felt better.  Still not professional, obviously, but definitely not frumpy.  And tomorrow I'll order two new pairs pants based on my new measurements (or maybe I'll order some more maternity pants- you're not the boss of me, society!) and I'll keep rocking my sweaters for as long as the cold weather will let me get away with it.