The dress was a dark, muted navy blue. It fit well and it was a nice price and so it was rung up, bought and wrapped up in the hopes of only having to be worn once. No, it wasn't a wedding dress and no, it's way too late for the prom. Way too late.
Growing up as an overweight female, to be blunt, is painful. PAINFUL. Losing that weight as an adult is thrilling, exhilarating, motivating, and...well, painful. One is always watching, watching, watching, from what others are eating and how much, to that extra ounce of fat that suddenly appears on ones once svelte stomach, to the ever punishing bathroom scale. Where will that arrow land? See, watching, always watching.
The worst thing that can happen to a once overweight girl is to lose that weight and then gain some of it back. When you lose a lot of weight everyone comments on it, from your best friends mother to your second cousins boyfriend, to the grocery store clerk at the local Whole Foods. I'm not kidding. It's one of those things that people feel like it's still okay to point out. As if they're doing you a favor by acknowledging your weight loss.
"Oh, look at you! You look great! WONDERFUL! WOW! Don't go losing too much weight now, or we'll hardly see ya! Ha, I'm kidding...keep it up!"
Okay, yeah, thanks.
So, what happens if one, say goes to graduate school? It's stressful. Sitting in cafes on ones laptop becomes a full time occupation. Weight is gradually gained and then more weight.
Hypothetically, what happens when you run into your best friends mom? Or not so hypothetically, perhaps you are asked to open the Ark and present the Torah at your cousin's daughter's Bat Mitzvah, in front of 200 people including all of your distant relatives of whom haven't seen you since your grandmother's funeral where instead of apologizing for your loss they congratulated you on that other loss, the weight loss, raving about how great you looked in that size 4, black dress!
How might that feel? Hmmm?
Maybe one runs down to the nearest clothing store, grabs the first thing she sees, tries it on, buys it, and hopes to never, ever wear it again. See, painful.
And the moral is? Don't comment on people's weight, lost or gained? Who cares about the size of ones waist when one is increasing the size of ones mind? Don't ever be fat in American society or one will surely regret it for the rest of ones life? Tempting, but...no.
The moral of this story, if there really is one, is to never, ever, agree to be participant in a Bat Mitzvah after the age of 13.
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