barbieI’m convinced the Marshalls at Fullerton/Clybourn has the best fitting room glamour lighting in the city. All things seem possible in this fitting room. During this particular visit,  I find a short black skirt. It’s got sequin stripes down each hip- fun yet subtle.

I usually have trouble finding skirts so when I put this on and don’t immediately hate it, I feel optimistic. And when I think of all the times I wanted a skirt like this and didn’t have one, I know that this skirt needs to go home with me. The 10 fits lower on my hips and hides imperfections. But the 8 fits closer, the way it should probably fit. I choose the 8 telling myself, “maybe when I lose weight, it will be perfect”.

But i’s not just about the skirt. I could have replaced the skirt with myself-  “when I lose weight, I will be perfect”. I believe in this bright future so I buy it.

I also hire a nutritionist weeks later. Because when I really want something done, I need staff. I need nags. I need people who won’t let me escape from my own goals. I accept this flaw and simultaneously my strength to own it and work with it.

It’s only been a week. I’ve lost 10 pounds.

Not really.

I’m not sure that my eating adjustment plan has made a difference. Possibly because I haven’t actually started following it.

It’s Monday. I look at the skirt in the closet.  I always wear my charcoal gray dress pants on Monday. They are the yoga pants of my professional wardrobe. I wonder if maybe the sequined skirt would improve this dreary winter-in-the-middle-of-spring day.



Maybe when I lose some…

I put on the skirt. I tell myself, “if you’re going to keep waiting, you might as well return it”. Because the only thing worse than not losing weight is wasting money.

In my closet, I find a top I love – a flowy black and white patterned shirt. Black boots. Purple tights. Gold necklace and earrings. A gold ring with a big purple stone.

The world doesn’t explode.

In fact, it feels brighter. I cut the tags off the skirt. I pack a breakfast and lunch actually on my eating plan.

I commit to the skirt. I commit to stop beating myself up. And I commit to the thought that maybe today, I am perfect.