The Wardrobe Meltdown

Last night I was getting ready to go The Black Keys. For some reason, I wasn't overly excited about going - partly because I'd seen them before, and partly because I longed for a night in. I hate how those concerts always seem to be on weeknights! 

I couldn't decide what to wear. I don't know if regular sized girls ever have this problem or if it's just a plus size thing, but I had a wardrobe meltdown. Bed strewn with clothes and belts, hair a tangled mess from yanking dresses and tops on and off, a furrowed brow. Worse of all, a heavy and panicked heart, angry mood and depressed spirit. I looked fat in EVERYTHING. My last spray tan was long gone, so my legs were white and veiny and I didn't want to show them, but it was a hot night. Nothing I tried on seemed to work. 

In the end, logic and reason came to the rescue. I looked for an "old faithful" - the dress that always works. Usually black, clings in the right place (the tits) and lets go at the right place (the tummy). I didn't take any photos on the night, but here's a photo of the dress a few months ago:

Dress/belt/cardigan: City Chic

All was well in the end, but surviving a wardrobe meltdown is a grueling experience and it wrecks havoc with your confidence and self-esteem. I pride myself on my body confidence, but a wardrobe meltdown requires firm self-coaching to come out the other side intact. It's very hard to love your body and be confident when suddenly none of your clothes sit right (even though a lot of that is just in your head). There have been times when I've just totally pulled out of going somewhere and stayed home sulking because of a wardrobe meltdown. No matter how much you accept and love your body, we all still have our bad days.

I have my bad days.

One of the most important strategies to avoid contemplating suicide as you stare hatefully at your clothes, is to make sure that the only clothes in your wardrobe are ones that fit you beautifully. If something is too small or too big, store it away, sell it, donate it. Don't have it around, taking up space, tormenting you.

Having said that, sometimes the clothes have nothing to do with it. Most of the time, it's just in your head. 

Thinking back, I don't remember what anyone else was wearing at The Black Keys. In the end, did it really even matter what I wore in a darkened mosh pit? Silly me.