Once a upon a time there was a girl in a little black dress and that girl was me.
Tonight I watched The Biggest Loser makeover episode and I started thinking about that dress. It was part of my wardrobe for my senior pictures. The dress was a lacey, chenille, v neck, 3/4 sleeve that looked something like this:
The last time I wore something like this I made my boyfriend cry and the photographer had me sign a release to hang the photo in his studio. That boyfriend and I are now friends 25 years later and there are a few things we do not reminisce about and that dress is one of them.
Yeah, it was one of those dresses that maybe comes along once in a lifetime.
Tonight I changed. I decided this journey is not going to be complete without another one.
That decision spawned the idea of a weight loss bucket list of sorts. I have only added a few items to the list and I am going to keep those quiet for now but the ultimate LBD is at the top of the list.
One of the other items I am willing to share is connected to that dress. When I went for my proof session that photographer convinced me the image was “hot.” It was the first time I had ever been forced to think of myself that way.
It was utterly horrifying to be honest.
I thought the guy was nuts.
I could not be the “hot” girl. My boyfriend thought I was but I did not trust his assessment either.
However, the truth I never let myself linger on is something happened to me on film and in that dress. I signed the release but as that portrait hung in the studio of the official senior and prom photographer no one knew it was me. It was both comforting and…disappointing. I remember feeling uber weird about being disappointed but since no one recognized me I was convinced the photographer was just nuts. And yet, not long after that a talent scout approached me about modeling and I nervously laughed her off too.
I mean this was just a few years removed from the awful boys who used to chant “Fatty and skinny went to bed, fatty rolled over and skinny was dead,” about me and my very tall, very thin friend. When those boys started teasing me/us, I stopped being her friend. Until this very moment, I have never spoke about it publicly and only two or three people have ever known that happened to me. I also never explained to her why I stopped being her friend.
Before this blog, before the GiveIt100 Challenge, but about the time I started this chapter of this journey I knew I had to “fix” the broken part of me who is still willing to believe those boys on more levels than I am comfortable admitting sometimes. Over 30 years later, I do not even have to close my eyes to see where I was standing in the courtyard as those awful were running circles around my friend and me singing their stupid song. It did not help I had crushes on most of them.
Hot? Me? No way?
And yet I sit here almost 27 years later after the most perfect dress for my body in the history of my life hugged my hips, defined my waist, and plunged to the just-right point to make a boy cry and absolutely know me not believing in myself at that moment is one of the biggest bullshit lies I have ever told myself.
If that picture was not hot, then no photog worth his salt would let it hang in his gallery.
If that dress was not the real deal, the ex-boyfriend and I could have a rational conversation about it.
Once upon a time, there was a girl in a little black dress and that girl is me…