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in a long time came from my husband today.
He needs some new pants and my mother, who yard sales frequently, asked me for his pants size just in case she would find a real deal on some nice khakis/dress pants (which she often does). So I told her the numbers and hung up the phone.
He thanked me, and then I suddenly asked him, "Do you know what size pants I take?" He said, "hmm," thought for a couple of seconds, and said, "12?"
I was astounded. He's a very honest man and seemed completely serious. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said.
I was astounded because I am a size 16 and have to pour myself into 14's. And this is such a huge part of my identity and something that I agonize over and this blessed man, this man whose opinion of my body means more to me than anyone else's thought I was a size 12. And he does understand generally women's sizes, that 16 and above are usually plus and 14 and below "normal" sizes, the whole size 6 ideal, and the advent of "zero sizing."
So I told him that I wore a size 16 and he was blown away. We had been watching Whoopi Goldberg on a talk show the other night recall how hard it was to get help buying a pair of size 16 pants in a fancy boutique, and he said, "No way. You're way smaller than Whoopi Goldberg." LOL -- I personally think the camera is unkind to people's weight, but that's another story.
What this whole thing got me thinking about is that I've agonized (just like in that dieting obsession thread also in this forum) about weight loss and how I NEED to be a size 12 or 14 to be happy, but in my husband's eyes, I am this beautiful, shapely, normal-sized creature. Maybe not a svelte creature or a "size zero," but I'm not leper to him. Frankly, I feel like I've let my pants size define me too much.
It's like a light just went on in my brain.
He needs some new pants and my mother, who yard sales frequently, asked me for his pants size just in case she would find a real deal on some nice khakis/dress pants (which she often does). So I told her the numbers and hung up the phone.
He thanked me, and then I suddenly asked him, "Do you know what size pants I take?" He said, "hmm," thought for a couple of seconds, and said, "12?"
I was astounded. He's a very honest man and seemed completely serious. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said.
I was astounded because I am a size 16 and have to pour myself into 14's. And this is such a huge part of my identity and something that I agonize over and this blessed man, this man whose opinion of my body means more to me than anyone else's thought I was a size 12. And he does understand generally women's sizes, that 16 and above are usually plus and 14 and below "normal" sizes, the whole size 6 ideal, and the advent of "zero sizing."
So I told him that I wore a size 16 and he was blown away. We had been watching Whoopi Goldberg on a talk show the other night recall how hard it was to get help buying a pair of size 16 pants in a fancy boutique, and he said, "No way. You're way smaller than Whoopi Goldberg." LOL -- I personally think the camera is unkind to people's weight, but that's another story.
What this whole thing got me thinking about is that I've agonized (just like in that dieting obsession thread also in this forum) about weight loss and how I NEED to be a size 12 or 14 to be happy, but in my husband's eyes, I am this beautiful, shapely, normal-sized creature. Maybe not a svelte creature or a "size zero," but I'm not leper to him. Frankly, I feel like I've let my pants size define me too much.
It's like a light just went on in my brain.
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