Along For The Ride
new Victoria's Secret catalog arrived in the mail this week.
it goes directly into the trash, along with the carpet-cleaning ads and
the two-for-one pizza coupons. I'm only on the mailing list
because I bought Daughter #1 a
pair of pajamas from their online store, a Christmas or two back: I
would never have
to it for myself. "There is
nothing in this catalog for me," I tell David every month, as I toss it
into the recycling bin. The handful of occasions when I've
actually glanced through the catalog before tossing it have always been
disheartening: nothing but page after page of improbably tiny bras and
panties and vaguely sinister underthings, little
slivers of fabric and lace, most of them, all
sized to proportions that haven't been personally relevant since the
living in a
Wonder Bra World.
isn't just the Victoria's Secret catalog, either. There is an
entire universe of women's clothing that has been off-limits to me for
nearly three decades: sweaters that stop short of the hipbone ...
blouses that button down the front ... T-shirts that pucker and crease
bustline. I've had to avoid anything sleeveless or strapless
or double-breasted or form-fitting or cut too low in the front.
Pastel colors are out. So is white. So
are patterns, especially stripes. So is anything
even vaguely transparent.
And don't even get me started on bike-riding
clothes: even the most extra-extra-EXTRA-jumbo cycling jersey makes me
look like a couple of Wilson Sure-Shots, stuffed inside a tube sock.
Work clothes are a separate slice of hell unto
themselves. For the past
several years, my standard "work uniform" in the office have been those
little short-sleeved blouses that button in the back: functional,
inexpensive, comfortable ... and seriously Great-Great-Aunt-Edna-like.
all of that is about to change.
less than a month -- in twenty-seven days,
eighteen hours, eleven minutes and forty-two seconds, as a matter of
fact (but who's counting?) -- I am finally going
to be having the surgery that will change my life and my wardrobe
forever. It's been a
long time coming. Longtime readers know that there have been
a lot of stops and starts, along the way. (Who can ever
forget the mental image of my husband, hyperventilating
on the floor of the plastic surgeon's office?)
all of the variables are in place -- my health, my
finances, my support system, my vacation time, my seventh red/blue
planet aligned horizontally with the moon in Goddess Taschus -- and the
date is set. On August 4th,
2006, I am leaving the 40DDD world behind me, once and
to throw a rock?