How miraculous the human brain is, that it can go from feeling making someone feel positive and voluptuous on the dancefloor to feeling flabby and Jabba the Hutt esque in the space of 24 hours.
Two occasions looming that I need to look feminine for, which means two dresses, which means twice I have to ‘get my legs out’. A phrase which strikes fear into my very heart because having tried on two potential dresses today I have yet again been reminded that I hate my legs.
One of the drawbacks of having the surgery is that you shrink from the top down so whilst I’ve lost an awful lot of weight, most of it has been from the top of me. My legs are still pretty much the same size they always were, chunky, treetrunked and the bit I dislike most. I’ve considered going down the maxi dress road on several occasions however trying to find one long enough to cover this 6’2″ body is like trying to fold gravy or hide the smell of alcohol on your breath from a nosey parent – futile and messy.
I’m on a little hormonal cloud at the moment and I can hear the petulant little voice inside my head screeching for me to cancel so that I don’t show myself or more importantly, anyone else, up. I could just about deal with the thought of looking like a heifer if it was just going to be me that it would effect, I’ve long been an embarrassment to others because of my size. I know that the people who are embarrassed by my size aren’t true friends and I also know that the friends who will be at both the functions are true friends but even so, the little gremlins in my head are having a field day causing paranoia and what feels the ability to burst into tears at any moment.
I’ve made the decision to send the dresses back and try some others, I’ll have to crack out the Garnier Sumer body on the pins and have a glass of wine (or two) for some dutch courage. I just wish I knew a more permanent way to get over my ‘thighs like what what what’.