Saying Goodbye to Size Zero (and Hello to Size Healthy!)

Want to know the real reason I've been living in gym clothes for the past four months?

Because nothing--and I mean NOTHING--in my closet fits me.

It started in June, when I noticed that my running shorts kept riding up, causing my thighs to--gasp!!--rub together and chafe.  Then, my yoga pants started hugging my butt a little too closely, and forget about zipping up a pair of jeans.  Last week, the final straw: not one, but TWO dresses literally burst at the seams within 24 hours of each other.  I had a complete meltdown and then faced reality: it was time to update my wardrobe.

So, I headed into the dressing room at Banana Republic, armed with new sizes and styles, full of confidence and feeling strong and totally secure in my new, healthier body.

I left feeling deflated, huge and completely pissed off at the fashion industry.

No wonder they use human clothes hangers as models, because these clothes do not fit anyone with a hint of muscle or curve.

And I started missing size zero, even though...

Size zero couldn't run up hills without walking; size healthy can.

Size zero got a stress fracture training for a marathon; size healthy finished one, even on a bad day.

Size zero's half marathon PR was 2:35; size healthy's is 1:57.

Size zero had no energy and slept through most days; size healthy has plenty of energy and runs a successful business with two employees.

Two days ago, I tried again.  I literally grabbed every pair of jeans in Nordstrom's, in three different sizes.  I ignored the labels.  I just tried them on.  Some, honestly, didn't make it past my knees.  Others worked beautifully.

So, I'm purging the closet--banishing size zero forever from my presence, and hopefully, eventually from my mind.

Why Do We Dress to Impress?

Yesterday morning, I was up by 7am.  I ate breakfast, I showered, I fixed my hair, applied make-up, slipped into a dress and heels and headed into the office.  I was at my desk my 9am.

For most women, this is a typical workday.

For me, it's not.

I grew up dressing to impress.  Pants in church were verboten.  High school was all about having the *right* jeans and shoes.  Guess and Polo reigned supreme.

College was even worse.  I went to the ultimate country club, conversative, prepster university.  Mid-90s slacker/grunge skipped right over Greenville, South Carolina.  Sorority jerseys, hair bows, pearls and dresses were the standard uniform.  I worn jeans *maybe* once a week.  I never once wore pajamas or sweat pants.  I even wore make-up when I worked out and put on a dress or skirt for Sunday morning brunch in the dining hall, even if I'd slept in and not gone to church. 

This dress to impress compulsion persisted throughout grad school and my early working years.  

We're told to dress to impress.  For the job that we aspire to.  For the person we want to be.  For the people we could possibly meet.  For the off chance Stacy and Clinton are hiding out in the Publix with a video camera the day I decide to go--gasp--unshowered and in my 15 year old running shorts to get some groceries.

But here's the deal.  I love heels and dresses and make-up as much as the next girl.  But these rituals are expensive.  And time consuming.  And quite frankly, often unnecessary.

I HAVE the job I aspire to.  I am COMFORTABLE with who I am.  I don't care anymore if Stacy and Clinton catch me off guard wearing workout clothes to run errands, because hey--at least I'll get a $5,000 shopping spree out of it.

And most days, I dress--or dress down--for the sole benefit for my cat and dog.

As women and as a society, we've created all sorts of rules about what's proper and acceptable.  Conversation on recent blogs about the topic have turned into heated debates about whether jeans are acceptable conference attire and the "proper" height of heels and skirts.

But exactly WHO are we trying to impress? 

Are we impressing or just conforming, and to what end?

My friend Allison wrote a brilliant post early this week about this very subject.

There's being professional and neat, and then there's being so obsessed with what everyone else thinks that you're afraid to leave your house without being just *so* for fear of mocking or scorn by anonymous people who could care less about your messy hair, big zit or ratty flip flops.

I totally understand dressing for office culture, for your audience, for the occasion.  I would never wear flip flops to present at a conference, nor would I ever wear anything revealing to anything but a cocktail party.

But I find nothing wrong with meeting a client in my workout clothes before I head to the gym or walking down to my neighborhood restaurant without make-up on.  I'm done trying to be or look perfect all the time.  I can be just as if not MORE productive sitting at home in my underwear as I would be sitting at a desk in an uncomfortable suit. 

And that outfit I wore yesterday to the office?  By 2pm, the seam of my dress was insanely itchy.  My feet were throbbing.  Most of the make-up had sweated off.  I longed to be at home in my PJs, where I could stop worrying so much about how I looked and--gasp--get some work done.