The Misfit

This morning I was feeling confident, proud even. After a month of sweating it out in my living room a pair of pre-baby pants gracefully slipped over my hips. I even buttoned them with ease! Later on in the day, we decided to make an outing to Old Navy. They were having a One Day Wonder sale on polo shirts for $5 (I thought they'd be great for Martin to wear to work, but they had no pocket, and aparently this is very important to him... so we didn't actually buy any polos) I wasn't really planning on buying anything, but while I was browsing the clearance racks a few things practically jumped into my basket.
Now, if you are like most women, you avoid the dressing room at all cost. It looks good on the hanger and that is the size you wore last time you bought something, so it should fit, right? This is a terrible mistake, however we all know what is going to happen in the fitting room. The things we wanted to fit somehow look like a completely different garment than we imagined, and the size we hoped to be, well... is still a dream in the making.
I decided to face the fitting room today since I did have the advantage of a husband to help out with the boys. I found this great pair of jeans that they wanted practically nothing for. Of course the jeans were one size smaller than the pants I was wearing. I took them anyway and with brave optimism I stepped behind the curtain . Now it was just me and the jeans. Silently I began chanting, begging, pleading, "please fit, please fit, please fit!" I got one leg in up to my thigh- it was already looking questionable. I begged some more as I squeezed the second leg in, and then the jumping, shaking, and, wiggling began. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in everything I could and fastened the button victoriously. If getting in to the jeans truly was the goal, I would have been a champion, but unfortunately I needed to look good in them too and my reflection wouldn't lie. I kept trying different angles, telling myself that they could look good on me. The girl in the mirror set me straight with, "Stop fooling yourself, you won't even be able to sit down! Just face it, you may never wear this size comfortably again!"
She was right. I removed the too-tight jeans, and slipped back into my own pants. I gave myself a second look. They weren't so bad. I could button them without "stuff" hanging over the waistline.
I hate fitting rooms, but as you can see, it's really all my own fault. We all do it- hoping something is what it isn't, hoping something will make us feel what it can't possibly, and setting expectations too high for ourselves. If there was a fitting room for life I'd probably still pick the wrong jeans to try on... and then I'd realize I look just fine in what I already have.