It was a strange old day yesterday. I packed my bag for the gym in the sixes not long after awaking from a very solid slumber. I could tell. There was drool. And technically the bag wasn’t for the gym, it was for items to get change into for work straight from the gym. I was wearing my gym clothes there. Anyway. I packed the darn bag and went to the gym. Yay me.
I did my work out, my sister was 20 something minutes late so I ditched her on the bikes and ducked into the shower. All said and done, I pulled on my new maroon leggings and my black Alessandra dress from Virtu. Stylish, I though. My sister coveted the leggings as I thought she would. Ha. At the car I ditched my showering at the gym tinea proof flip flops and changed into the last remaining pair of black heels I own. I took one step and knew I was in trouble. My foot was slipping out the back. Bummer.
Nothing I could do with a short 5 minutes to get to work, off I went. The shuffle from the car park to my office was possibly the most embarrassing, long-winded thing I’ve had to do for a while. I encourage you to picture those girls you see wobbling and tentative on their feet in sky-high heels. The ones you point and laugh at?
Well, that was me.
There is something deeply troubling about not being able to trust yourself to walk in your own shoes. But anyway. I made it, plonked myself on my desk chair and worked my butt off. Lunchtime came and I had almost forgotten that my shoes didn’t fit until I shuffled off to get my car. Stupid shoes. I thought. Ruined a perfectly awesome outfit.
I got home, dumping them in the bin on the way past. Stuff me around once, shame on you, stuff me around twice, shame on me, right? I went inside and grabbed my old faithful black Big W and get ready to go. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror. It wasn’t good. I couldn’t even reframe it as good if I tried. What the heck? When did that happen? How?
My Alessandria dress which I adore. Lots. Looked like a sack on me. Apparently somewhere in this weight loss quest it had gone from swing dress cool to baggy and unflattering. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and shook my head. I looked like a total disaster. Bad ponytail, non-existent make up, oversized dress and maroon leggings. It wasn’t the dresses fault, it has served me well. I sighed out loud. So much for looking like a rock star. This outfit absolutely looked different in my head. Don’t you hate that.
There’s nothing worse, don’t you think, than not being as hot as you thought you were?