Last year, I got married. Looking back, what really mattered about that day is that I got to marry my best friend, a wonderful companion and my partner for life.
What is somewhat sad is that in the days leading up to those beautiful moments standing on the beach with the people who are the most important to me in this world, I was concerned about more trivial things like paper flower bouquets, my hair, and my measurements.
Before my fittings for the dress, I stressed over what my measurements would be. Here’s a look back into the mindframe of someone who was somewhat troubled by what the numbers might say.
Today was my first wedding dress fitting-or, was supposed to b e my first wedding dress fitting.
But, that doesn’t matter-at least not for this post.
Anyways, back to my story. Last night I started to wonder about my measurements. I was so curious, in fact, that I had Boy Eat assist me in wrapping measuring tape NOT INTENDED TO MEASURE YOUR BODY FOR CLOTHING BUT INSTEAD TO MEASURE THINGS LIKE WALLS AND FLOORS AND WINDOW LENGTH around my body to determine my “numbers.”
I don’t know why this was so important to me. In fact, I don’t know why it even mattered. I was just so curious about what my size would be for the dress. Maybe I thought I’d get in “better shape” for the big day and wondered what my starting point was. Perhaps I wanted to know how I “measured up” after months and months and months of not checking my weight, even considering one calorie, and simply eating what my body wanted and staying active. Or, maybe, I wanted a heads-up on what the size would be before some stranger wrapped the measuring tape around me himself.
On all ends, the measuring turned out just fine. Sure, at first, I was a little taken aback by numbers. But, then I did a little research. And, within twenty seconds of my googling OH WHAT DID WE DO BEFORE GOOGLE, I realized how silly I was being, and how downright ridiculous my thoughts had been.
My numbers put me right squarely somewhere between a size six and a size eight, a perfectly normal HEALTHY size for someone my height, etc. etc.
It’s interesting, though, right, how sometimes our weight, our numbers feel like our grades instead of just our size?
It’s sad, isn’t it, that we look for some kind of accomplishment in something that in reality is so empty?
Our health, after all, is the greatest determinative factor of our well-being and hence our beauty-not some numbers.
Turns out, my research got even more interesting. Throughout history, the beauty ideal has drastically changed. What our world once considered the beauty ideal is now probably overweight, or a little out of shape. In fact, Venus herself was one curvy girl.
And, now, we (as a society, not every single one of us of course) have devolved into valuing one element, that is, thinness, for all, when in reality each of us is shaped differently, beautifully, naturally.
At some point, women started feeling that the lower their numbers the more successful they were, and the larger their numbers, the bigger their failure. And, until those numbers start to interfere with our health, we should instead consider ourselves successes, not because we are thin, but because we are healthy.
Looking back 24 hours, I cannot believe how silly that was. And, in the car on the way home from the tailor, I felt proud for every single inch. After all, I got my A, and that A comes from being healthy.