Isn’t having children supposed to make your feet bigger? The other day I was shoe shopping (Which unlike normal women, I only do occasionally, when I really need some shoes!), and I discovered that my feet are now a half-size smaller than they’ve been my whole adult life. This discovery led me to recite an impromptu prayer. “Dear God,” I announced aloud, “Thank you for always answering my prayers, but when I said I would like to lose a few sizes, I did not mean shoe sizes – sorry if my request was unclear the first time around. Amen.”
Fortunately the shoe salespeople at Macy’s are commissioned employees, so no one made fun of me (at least until I left).
But now I fully expect that I should lose a dress size or two any day now. Not that it matters – because a mesomorph is an mesomorph, regardless of size. I mentioned in a previous post that I’m at once curvaceous and muscular, and these days that’s not too difficult to deal with really. One of the initial things that made me want to marry my husband was when he was talking about a supermodel and he scrunched up his nose saying, “… she’s this SKINNY, SCRAWNY…” He looked as though he might barf, and that’s when I knew he was a keeper! In other words, he likes me the way I am. But when I was a youngster, it was such a nightmare to have this body type.
The nicest remark ever made about it was the guy in high school who referenced a St. Christopher medal that hung inside my shirt saying, “In my next life I want to be Staci’s medallion.” Seriously, it only got worse from there.
I worked in a restaurant near Arizona State University in high school, so a lot of college kids worked there with me. I liked to think that I was very mature. And one day I was wearing a sundress and one of the waiters looked at me and said, “WOW Stace!”
For a second I was flattered, but then he went on to ask, “Are you a swimmer?”
“Um – no.” I said. “Why?”
“Oh,” he said, “You’ve got the shoulders for it.”
Another day I was wearing a bikini at a swimming pool, and there was an acquaintance there who I sort of had a crush on. And he said, “Do you lift a lot of weights?”
Another time when I was a senior in high school I went to visit my best friend in her dorm (she was a year older than me), and I met a guy there who later told her, “You’re friend is very well-endowed.”
When she relayed the information to me (and this is not a tribute to the American education system) I asked, “What does that mean?”
And she said, “I don’t know – it probably means you’re really smart or mature or something.”
So when I went home, I asked my mother if that’s what he meant and she said, “He meant you have big boobs, Honey. That’s all.”
Yeah well – I already knew that -- not very impressive to me.
But my all time favorite was my college roommate’s boyfriend who lifted up my leg while I was laying by the pool one day and with eyes as big as saucers exclaimed, “Oh my God! I would kill to have calf muscles like your’s!”
When I used to whine about these things to my mother she would say, “Someday your butt will get bigger too and you’ll be glad you have something on top to even things out a bit, so don’t complain.” Along the same lines, she used to tell me as a teenager that when I’m forty I’ll be really grateful for my oily skin. Unfortunately, the promise of “aging well” really isn’t a big consolation for a young girl.
But she was right about the butt thing, unfortunately, so I have come to be at peace with being busty at least and no longer complain about it. Much.