Last night, I went shopping for a specific outfit. For the first time in more than a decade, I shopped at Nordstroms, which proved to be challenging since they name their departments ambiguous things like "Encore" and "Narrative" and "Brass Plum." How are you supposed to know where to find a pair of mid-rise, boot-cut, lighter wash denim jeans in size 14?
Fortunately for me, Nordstroms' salespeople are trained to actually help, so a nice young woman named Sheila helped me picked out half a dozen pairs of jeans to try. I tried to pick up a size 16 pair of one style, worried about bursting into tears in the dressing room if nothing fit, but she assured me the fourteens would fit.
And they did. Every single pair of jeans (even the ones that cost *gasp* $158) fit! I even had her bring me a size 12 because the fourteens were a little roomy in the legs. (I would have purchased them, too, if I didn't have to wear them tomorrow. In about five pounds, those twelves will be perfect!)
Shirts, of course, were more problematic because I carry my extra weight around my mid-section. I am grateful for super-duper, industrial-strength undergarments which camoflauge the nagging roll at my waist.
Tomorrow, a professional make-up artist and a hair stylist will work their magic on my 41-year old face. I will be provided with a wardrobe . . . but I'm bringing a few items of my own, just in case. If I find it tricky to find shirts that fit right, how much harder will it be for the photographer to clothe me? The fat girl's fear haunts me--what if nothing fits?
Anyway, this will be my first ever photo shoot and after avoiding cameras for fifteen years, I face the prospect with a mixture of excitement and dread. I worry that the photographer will throw up her hands in despair and throw me out of the studio in disgust. I worry that I will blink in every single shot, that blink where I only close one eye and look as if I've overdosed on sleeping pills. I worry that I will be the fattest, oldest woman in the room (which is likely).
However, wouldn't it be amazing if they actually make me look good? Even though I'm not at my goal weight? (Twenty-eight pounds to go . . . ) Even I have to admit that my legs look positively thin in those slim-fit Calvin Klein jeans hanging in my closet.
Anyway, you'll eventually see the picture . . . and I'll tell you more about this mysterious photo shoot at a later date.
Meanwhile, think photogenic thoughts for me! And have a great weekend!