6:03 p.m. - 2006-08-20
Things are better.
Not perfect, not by any means, but better. And right now, "better" is just fine by me.
Alan seems to have realized what a gigantic jerk he's been over the past couple of months, and has been making an active effort to stop cursing so much in front of me and Ali. He's been doing pretty well, actually, which has surprised me. He's also managing to keep his temper under control, and we haven't fought at all since he's been home. I'm not sure how long this will last (I'm hoping forever), but it sure is nice to feel like things have a chance of working out.
We just got back from Texas/north LA (his uncle lives right across the line; the gate to his driveway IS the line between the two states, which is kind of weird) where we went to look at an old trailer/mobile home/whatever the hell they're called that we plan on using as a temporary living situation. It's old--like 1984 old-but still in reasonably good shape, and certainly worth the $5,000 price that they're asking for it. I can't even begin to tell you just how redneck it makes me feel to be living in a trailer (no offense to anyone who lives in one), but it's nice to know that we're going to have a place to stay until we decide where we're going to go. My grandparents have about 20 acres 10 miles south of here, and there's a nice little area that's already set up for a trailer to be put there. (Thank dog we won't be moving into a trailer park...I don't think I could stomach that.)It's going to cost a couple grand to get the damn thing where we want it, but we'll still have a LOT of money left over to put in the bank and accrue interest while we search for a house. We'll have to do some work to the place before I'm really happy with it (painting and such), but it's plenty big enough for the three of us. Not to mention the fact that a $60 electricity bill sounds unbelievably awesome to us, because ours has been running around $200 a month, and that's with keeping it just cool enough in here that we don't break a sweat watching t.v. And this also keeps us from being tied to my parents in any way, which is pretty great considering how fickle my dad can be.
Speaking of rednecks, we went to see *cough*HankWilliamsJr.*cough* in concert last night. I'm not generally a fan of country music (at least not the "new" country) but Alan wanted to go, so I obliged by buying tickets. I decided at the last minute that in order to go, I desperately needed some suitable clothing. I can't fit into my old cowgirl gear anymore, not that it would matter if I could. The Rocky Mountain jeans and the Justin boots were strictly for barrel racing; I sure as hell didn't wear them anywhere except to rodeos when I was a contestant.
So, armed with my Lane Bryant credit card, I headed off to the fat girl store. (I can call it that because I shop there, okay? Again, please don't take offense, because I AM a "fat girl.") My favorite jeans have developed a hole between the thighs because of rubbing issues, and I really wanted to get a couple pairs that actually fit. I was thrilled to find two pairs that fit GREAT, both in a dark wash, one boot-cut and the other with a flare leg (what's the difference, really?), and both in my pre-baby size, which can actually be purchased at regular stores that don't specialize in plus-size clothing. As I was picking through the sale rack, I kept eyeing the adorable halter tops and wishing like hell that I could wear them. I've never been able to find a strapless bra that fits, stays in place, and keeps the boobs where they're supposed to be, so I've always thought that spaghetti straps and halters were something I may as well forget about.
I told all this to the saleswoman who was assisting me, and after a bit of talking, she managed to convince me to try on a strapless bra just for the hell of it. She said that even though they didn't carry them in DDD (the only sold in mainstream stores that I can cram into), it's sometimes possible to go up a band size or two and make a smaller cup size work. I was doubtful, but agreed anyway, and lo and behold...it WORKED. I then tried on every single halter top in the damn store, and though none of them really fit the way I wanted, it was pretty cool to wear something without sleeves.
After about the fifteenth top, I came out of the dressing room, and the woman behind the counter remarked that the shirt I was wearing looked very nice on me.
"You think so? I feel like it's too revealing, and besides, my arms are too fat to wear something like this."
She then leaned over the counter, motioned me closer, and gave me the sweetest lecture I've ever received.
"Let me tell you something. Your arms are NOT fat. Look at my arms. They're bigger than yours, and I'm wearing a tank top. And you know what? I wear clothes like this ALL THE TIME. You are BEAUTIFUL, and don't ever let anyone tell you differently. I wish that all of my gorgeous queens would realize how gorgeous they truly are, and quit letting society make them think otherwise. If you don't like that top, that's fine. Let me show you another one that's a little less revealing, and you put it on and wear it with CONFIDENCE."
People, I almost broke down in tears. Because even though I know she's right, I still can't help seeing myself as a fat, disgusting mess. My self-esteem has never been very good, not even when I was much thinner than I am now, and the stretch marks and loose skin that came along with Ali haven't helped matters at all. I've ALWAYS seen myself as fat, and I've always been unhappy with my body. Looking back at pictures from high school and college make me really sad, because I looked pretty great back then. I wish that I had been able to really see myself, because I was damn hot. I've never been thin by conventional standards, but I was really hot when I was wearing a size 11/12.
DAMN. I don't know where all that came from...it certainly wasn't where I intended to take this entry when I began it. Anyway, I left the store with two pairs of jeans, two bras, an off the shoulder CAMOFLAUGE (it was a country music concert, okay?) top, and a pair of Spanx. Then I got a pair of really cute boots and some fake gold jewelry to top off the ensemble, and you know what? Even though I felt like I was going to a costume party, I felt pretty good about myself.
Now I'm off to cook dinner.