For years, I buried myself in oversized clothes, hoping the world wouldn't notice my large breasts and even larger butt. I had a woman's figure since I was eleven years old. I was well-developed than most girls my age. Everything I wore hugged my curves in ways that made me a target for both boys and men.
As I grew older, another issue emerged - I was a stress eater. If I had a bad day at school, I'd come home and stuff my face with whatever was in the fridge. Sometimes there wasn't anything but breakfast trays my mom brought home from her school cafeteria job. But on the days when Mpm received her food stamps, the fridge would be brimming with all kinds of goodies. That's when I'd really go to town if I had a bad day.
Soon, I was hoping the world wouldn't notice the extra weight I carried, so I wore oversized sweaters, pants, and dresses to hide the bulges. My spirit was heavy as well. I was constantly bullied by other kids about my appearance and didn't have any friends. Those who I thought were my friends would quickly turn on me if it gained them favor with the other kids. Everntually, I became a loner and while I longed for friends, I began to enjoy my own company. At least i could trust myself.
As an adult, more trials and tribulations added to my stress. I lost my mother to cancer which triggered a major depression. I'm still dealing with the loss and find it hard to focus on anything. But food wasn't an issue. Food became my best friend. Food was there for me when I was sad, depressed, angry or stressed. I ate and ate, trying to fill the void my mother's passing had created.
My self-esteem was at an all-time low. I used baggy sweatshirts, hoodies, and pants to hide my ever-expanding waistline. At first, I treated the clothing like armor, protecting me from all the pain I was carrying. The clothing also caused men to avert their eyes and ignore me as I walked down the street. No more harassment! I was relieved by that part.
I wanted to disappear into the background, to become part of the scenery. I convinced myself it was about comfort, but in truth, I was hiding. My mother's death had killed a part of me too. I didn't want to deal with anything or anyone. I didn't want tp be seen because I didn't care about how I looked anymore.
Everything changed when I decided to go to therapy. I was a mess and I knew it. As much as I found comfort in the baggy outfits, I longed to wear flowing dresses and skirts, crop tops and capri pants, wide-legged jeans and Boho tops. I wanted to dress in clothes that fit me - not hid me. I began to take small, consistent steps towards dealing with my grief. My therapist suggested writing a letter to my mother, visiting her grave and talking to her, and honoring her memory by dpoing some of things she enjoyed.
OI also started eating better. Junk food became public enemy number one. I cut back on sweets, cakes, and cookies. Ice cream and gummi candy became strangers. I spent more time with my books, with friends, and family members. I wanted to do better and the results began to bear fruit.
The oversize clothing became too oversized. I was swimming in fabric. I felt sloppy and unkempt. I no longer wanted to hide myself. The real me needed to be seen. I went through my clothes and pulled out items I hadn;t worn in years. I was pleased when I tried them on and they still fit. Some of them were even roomy on me! My figure was back to its curvy form - a more grown up version.
I donated all of my sweats and hoodies that no longer served me. I focused on the pieces that spoke to my new self. My true self. Floral and abstract designs. Prints and patterns. Cinched waits and wide-legged pants. High top sneakers with swing skirts. Maxi skirts and graphic tees. Form-fitting hoodies and slightly oversozed sweatshirts. Th e new me was looking and feeling great.
I realized that hiding was preventing me from shining. I was now glowing. It showed in how I carried myself. I was having a great time in my revamped style. I set a goal, stay consistent, and busied myself with other tasks. Therapy helped as did spending time with friends and family. I occupied my mind with activities - like reading and writing. I focused on my crafts. i worked on my side hustles. Stayong positives helped me to stay on track.
My style journey continues. It is every changing. I wear clothes that make me happy. I wear clohes that make me feel seen. My style iecletci and electric. That is the way I want it to be. I have tools to help me through depression and grief. I will continue to improve my style and my life.
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