Tonight, I ended the standstill I had going with trying on my bridesmaid’s dress.
I have had the dress for about a month. I didn’t go to get it altered. Why? Because I knew I was fat, that’s why.
On top of swearing too much, I also eat too much. Conversely, sometimes I forget to eat. In health speak, this equates to a giant frowny face that means “this is why you’re fat.”
If I were trying to be positive, I would say, “Well, Amanda, you’re not obese! You have boobs! You sometimes work out! And every now and then you eat a salad!”
But here’s the thing: I’m not trying to be positive. All I want to do is drown out this revelation by going to Potbelly’s (oh, the irony!) and getting an Oreo milkshake. One there. And one for the mile walk home.
This is what every woman in America fears: that their clothes will not fit. That the zippers won’t zip, that the buttons can’t close, that the bridesmaid’s dress for the wedding in 12 days does fit but is insanely tight BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T EAT MORE SALADS. And, you also may have boobs.
Now, I could tell myself that starting tomorrow I will treat my body as if it were a temple. But, I’ll probably cry into my imaginary breakfast that I’ll forget to eat. Or maybe I’ll follow my exercise routine to the letter – and gain a few pounds.
I’m so bummed. I need to sleep it away, and dream of happier things, like chocolate.