Fat Dress

I was feeling pretty fine, or as my sister would say, “sassy”, when I left my house this morning. I had on a brand new summer dress I bought for myself at Macy’s–which is a big deal, because I never buy myself anything– and wedge sandals. It’s a gorgeous day, I had been very productive at work all morning, and I had a lunch date with friends; I was feeling pretty good.

At lunch, after sending the waitress back for even more sugar for our sweet tea, my friends and I discussed the television show, The Biggest Loser.  Arguably the show is meant to be inspiring, but for some reason, the few times I’ve seen it, the only thing I’ve been motivated to do during the commercial break is grab another bag of chips. We all agreed, however un-PC, that it’s probably because seeing how much further the contestants need to go compared to ourselves makes us feel complacent (or perhaps secretly good) about our own reality.

Hello Karma. I walked into the preschool to pick up my daughter, strutting in my sweet little dress and rubbing my belly after that delicious lunch and the first teacher I saw gives me the biggest smile and says, “Congratulations! When are you due?”

Mind you, this is not the first time this has happened to me, but the shock and awkwardness of the situation never changes.  Last summer at Picnic with the Pops, a beloved former High School teacher actually reached over and rubbed my belly while delivering the same congratulations. Now, I’ve been pregnant many times, but for some reason I can not explain, I’ve never once had anyone say this to me when I was actually pregnant. I would stand with my back swayed, patting my belly eagerly while waiting to share my news and people would merely smile at me and say, “Want a beer?”

So why does this happen to me now?  “It’s the dress,” my friend Renee informs me, “You look bigger in that dress than anything else you wear.” Before I could thank her, or trip her to make her fall on her face, she kindly added, “Because you look so tiny in everything else you wear.” Good recovery; I’ve decided we can still be friends. 🙂  After all, she is right. This dress, however cute in theory, is a Fat Dress.  Let’s face it: I struggle just as much as the next girl with my self image, so I don’t need any help from a dress that screams “maternity wear.”

During the long drive home from preschool I ran through my list of options:

a) I could exercise. But that didn’t seem like a good idea, especially since I completely agreed with Renee’s apt analogy at lunch that exercising is like doing something illegal. It just feels wrong.

b) I could eat less. Not gonna happen. I don’t eat that much to begin with; in fact I mostly drink. Case closed.

c) I could toss out the dress. But honestly, I like the dress and it is adorable, if only on the hanger.

After much thought I came to a logical solution: Spanks. Spanks (in case you are not a middle-aged woman) are undergarments that magically suck everything in and make you appear much slimmer and sleek than you normally would.  I’m not sure if anyone knows exactly where all the “extra you” goes, but honestly who cares as long as it will stop people from congratulating me on my new pregnancy.

Well, now that that’s decided, I am going to celebrate with a big bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I just need to loosen the belt on this dress and I’ll be set.


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9 responses to “Fat Dress

  1. I’m a Biggest Loser reject (as I recently blogged about), so I figured I had to post. First, people are stupid. How they could think you are pregnant is beyond me. Second, even if the dress gives you added girth in the mid-section, why would someone say that without KNOWING you were pregnant? Nuts.

    • copynoll

      Emily, I thought of you as I posted this because I had just read your blog about The Biggest Loser (which was awesome, by the way). I’m glad you commented because I was hoping you would not find my post superficial. In general, I am astounded by what people will say to anyone about their weight. Can you imagine walking up to someone and commenting that they don’t seem as intelligent as they did before, or that their face appears less attractive than it once did? That’s how I feel when I hear someone comment on a person’s weight gain. Of course, I realize the preschool teacher thought she was paying me a compliment, but it made me think about perception versus reality.

  2. OMG. I’m sorry that happened. Ridiculous.

    Four thoughts:

    1. Don’t congratulate someone on a pregnancy unless you can see the baby’s head.

    2. I was wrongfully congratulated a few years back. I believe both parties were scarred equally.

    3. I want to see this dress.

    4. Whatever a pair of Spanx sucks in must pop out somewhere else. This makes me curious about the leotard variety. Does it all pop out of the cleavage area?

  3. Katie

    Spanks are like a very tight miracle. Somehow, as if by magic, none of your body pops out anywhere. It just “vanishes” into very compressed air.

  4. I lost it at “Want a beer?” Really. My cat is still wondering what happened.

  5. Renee

    To one of the skinniest girls I know~ That pimento cheese sandwich was worth it! I am so glad we can still be friends! My comment looks much worse in writing….. Love ya!

  6. I don’t care what you were wearing, there is no way you could have looked pregnant! I never congratulate anyone unless I am beyond 100% sure that they are, in fact, pregnant. I had a lady at work once tell me, (while I was pregnant) “You don’t look pregnant yet, just fat”, just what every woman wants to hear!

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