|Don’t judge my mad makeup skillz from this. I blame the stupid phone cam for washing colors together and adding a pinkish hue. Also, I’m at work and trying to pretend I’m looking at the PC monitor.|
Anyway, I’m a size 16 in the UK, which I think corresponds to a size 12 in the USA, and I’ve never truly been okay with it.
I always said people should like me for me…while I tried every diet I could, and at times went to extremes I’m not proud of. I might manage to lose ten pounds, but I’d probably gain them back in a few months.
Since meeting My Love, I’ve slowly come to accept myself. I’ll never be slim, and that might actually be all right! That doesn’t mean I stopped trying to lose a few pounds; I just stopped obsessing over it. My husband loves me the way I am, and I’d have it no other way, but I still want to look the best I can.
Having always been overweight, however, I’d gotten it in my head that I could never be what people mean by “girly” girl. I would rarely even try to accentuate my feminine side, except in a dark, vampy (and at times vampiry—hee) way.
Then, this summer, while nursing a broken arm and just lying whining about my parents’ summer place, I caught a new show on TV. Well, new to me; it’s currently on its fifth season in the States.
|pic snagged from redcarpetcrash|
I’m talking about Drop Dead Diva, my guilty pleasure, and the show that actually got me to start wearing makeup to work and bothering to make sure my clothes no longer looked thrown on me. Brooke Elliott, an absolutely beautiful plus size woman, portrays a sexy, feminine, and kick ass lawyer who wins trials while looking like a million bucks. I’ve admired female characters on TV before, but am—not really—ashamed to admit Jane/Deb is the first who’s affected my outlook on life since Buffy.
I feel silly ever as I type this. My mom has been on my case to put more effort into my appearance since I was in high school. I remember her insisting I should pluck my eyebrows and go out, when all I wanted to do was chill and play Phantasmagoria on my PC. My sister is a beautician, and I was the one who first taught her how to do her makeup, because I was definitely good at it but refused to bother on myself.
Now they both marvel at how I wake up half an hour earlier to get ready for work, despite venomously hating mornings. My mom can’t believe I even own tailored jackets, since they’d been hiding in the back of my closet for years, and my coworkers jokingly accuse me of having an affair. My dad started introducing me to business associates, something he didn’t always do in the past, despite my desk being opposite his in the office. My Love likes the changes, but is amazing enough to say I always look good—see why I married the guy?!
I know it’s shallow, and possibly sexist in some way, that I even make an entry about wanting to look better and finally believing it’s possible, but I do. My life is all kinds of stressful right now, and looking forward to a new makeup style or putting together and accessorizing a new outfit with things I already have, makes me happy.
That said, I’m absolutely appalled by what they’ve done to my show this season and will happily argue with anyone who believes Stacy’s behavior is anything other than horrible.
Dude, I’m way too invested in this.