Dear diary, 

I went to try on a dress over the weekend for an event. I gathered as many dresses as I could so I wouldn’t have that disappointing feeling of walking away with nothing that results in me feeling shit with myself. I got the biggest sizes I could so it would feel nicer to go down a size. A trick I learned as a mini confidence boost. 
There was one stage where I could go to the shops and pick a size 8 or 10 and not bat an eyelid because I knew I’d fit it. Wouldn’t even bother trying it on. 

I remember I was trying on dresses in front of an ex boyfriend and when I came out he said “you look so thin” with a beaming smile, like he was proud of me. I took that as a massive compliment as he was big on my weight (no pun intended)
I went shopping by myself, with no one to tell me if I looked too fat or too thin. 
I’m tried on size 14’s and 16’s, mediums, larges and extra lathes, and I couldn’t get the zip up. I tried on 8 different dresses and not one fit me. Not one! I bulged here, and bulged there. I asked the shop attendant and she said, they stock a certain look for certain looking people, took the clothes off me and didn’t smile. Obviously pissed off I didn’t buy anything? But the fact I didn’t fit into smaller sizes made me embarrassed and I felt like the shop assistant saw me as a slobby overeater. 
I walked into another shop and told the lady of my experience. I picked up all tight hugging dresses and the ones I liked were all small. I thought, fuck it. What do I have to lose? 
Tried one on, looked amazing, next one, amazing. Went out and asked some ladies if I was delusional and they said the smaller sizes suited me better as I was “nice and curvy” in their words.
It’s not the dress that makes the girl, it’s the girl that makes the dress. I found something that suited my body that was a size small! Sizes don’t mean shit, and we really should ever rely on them to define our worth. I’m not a slobby overeater, but whatever I am and whatever anyone thinks of me, is none of my business. They aren’t walking in my shoes or paying my bills. 
I know I can change my body, I know I can be stick thin. I KNOW it’s all up to me. But I know I won’t wake up tomorrow a size 2. So what’s wrong with just enjoying your body. What is so wrong with just taking your body and loving it as a journey? Why does it have to be one or the other. Why not try on something you’d never wear just so you can walk past the shop you were previously in and tell them they made a big mistake. 
And go to a party like a fucking (tired) rockstar! 
(Only photo I had, the ones I take of myself. Sigh.)

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