When The Dress and Partner Doesn't Fit!

The time is here and the weather is right, the sun in shining and the birds are tweeting away (and I don’t mean virtually). Honey, I’m not talking about summer. I’m referring to DUN DUN DUNNNNNN – WEDDING season!

That dreaded season that means whenever you log into Facebook, you are bound to find 45 engagement or wedding announcements. A few months ago I was doing just that when I stumbled upon a former coworker’s profile; I was happy to see that her long-term boyfriend had decided to spend forever and a day with her through a beautiful proposal.

I had lunch with this good friend last week and she was relaying all of the stresses of planning a wedding; the most complex component: the coordinating of people. And of course being a red blooded women, she was deathly afraid of not looking thin and svelte enough in her dress. She even purchased a dress one size too small out of the philosophy that, “This dress will fit me come hell or high water.”

I immediately remembered the many times I purchased items in a size small, knowing darn well I was a medium, or let’s be honest...large. Yet I purchased these items in the hopes they would one day fit, that perhaps seeing their small silhouette would serve as a catalyst to an active lifestyle and slimmer figure.

We have all been guilty of this, purchasing something that we KNOW doesn’t fit, but we want it to so desperately, that we force it to. I couldn’t help but contemplate, how often do we do this with the people we are dating? Similar to shopping for something in the store, we see a new dress or suit jacket that looks so fabulous (as if it was made just for us) and while we know the cut or hem isn’t quite right, we still purchase the item in the hopes of wowing everyone. We are even subconscious while wearing it, wondering if everyone else can see how tight the skirt or blazer is.

I was 15 when I first fell in love. Oh yes, the real gut wrenching kind of love that left me in a dopamine induced seven year haze. The kind of love that blurred my vision, self-esteem and judgment. You see, I believed that I had found the highly coveted “one”. Mine was a selfless love that jet set my soul to the moon and shooting stars, and simultaneously hurled be into depths of despair.

It’s often said girls mature faster than boys–understatement of the CENTURY–while I was ready for a committed relationship that would permit the exchange of hearts and vows–he wasn’t. And while he knew that I was worth this devotion, his brief moments of clarity kept me hanging on for more.

Some days would be nothing short of magical–exchanging promises while we held each other with coinciding inhales and exhales. While some days he would forget I even existed; that my heart had a pulse, and that I was special. This tumultuous dichotomy of love and pain left me confused; analyzing my every move (under) with a microscope and fine tooth comb I hypothesized that his blasé approach to my affections was my fault.

I thought, “If I could just somehow make him see, all that I am, he wouldn’t be able to reject all that I have to offer.”  I strove for years to make myself perfect, performing noting short of a tap dance in front of him. I used to pose when he was around, my every move a calculation of premeditated cause because I had to prove I was enough. That I was IT. Utterly beautiful. THE one for him. I dieted, taking my weight to dangerous lows because I just wanted to be attractive in his eyes.

I think one day I was just tired; tired from not being “enough” and I slowly started to realize my own worth, as if slowly peeling back my own layers revealed a brilliance I had never before seen.

While looking in the mirror, I felt my skin...relished my hair... and as I traced the outline of my face I began to realize I was worth more than the way I was being treated, a diamond valued like glass.  In my gut I knew I was the right size but he was the wrong fit.

Here I was prancing around, orchestrating choreography that would impress a Juliard graduate. I was posing and dipping, sashaying and sipping, and all of it a charade - all because I was trying so hard to make him the “one.” You see we all have these molds, these cut-outs and archetypes of what we are looking for in a partner. These molds vary; some require a certain hair color or demeanor, while others mandate a plump physique or a curt tongue. 

Whatever our molds, are we hold on to them tightly, then we take that same mold and force (and sometimes jam) individuals into it. Imagine an assembly line, placing one woman/man after another into this mold. Instead we must be honest with ourselves, just as we should with the dress size we are, we also should date who is best for us and deep down we know who that is.

It boils down to honesty: L’amore e cieco, el amore s ciego, l’amour est aveugle, or, love is blind, no matter the language, the meaning is the same.  

Love causes blurred blurry vision, forcing us to overlook major factors that serve as major hindrances to a healthy relationship. We overlook the poor communication skills, lack of tact, and compassion that our partners have because we simply want love.

We think that we can even change ourselves so our “perfect” love can truly be. Hey! Remove the goggles, folks, wash out those eyes and value yourself. Your mold should be held in the highest regard for someone who settles perfectly into what we have been searching for (let me be clear: I don’t mean hair color and job titles, but more the more profound aspects of a person like character traits and personalities).

So the next time you are out clothes shopping, if there is any temptation to purchase smaller jeans, remember my words to run…fast and in the opposite direction!