Clothes and money

I don't feel well. I feel awful. I feel ugly, fat, nervous, afraid, and generally, inferior. (As I write this blog, I start to relax and I start breathing deeply, spontaneously). I am hyper-worried about money, I hate my body, I feel ugly, I am frustrated.

I am very, very neurotic right now. The back of my ears feel hot, as I am thinking too much.

I went to the second-hand store today to buy some clothes. The last time I went, I found a lot of good things, and I told myself I'd be back as soon as possible. Well "as soon as possible" did not come very soon. I think it's been well over two months since I was at the Salvation Army last. I always worried about money. "I don't have money for clothes," I'd think to myself. If I did not resort to that excuse, I had other ones, such as, "It's too far of a drive," "It is going to be a waste of gas because, who knows if I'll find something worthwhile," and "Buying clothes for vanity is wrong." However, since last night I spent lots of time by myself, and I had time to think, and muse, I decided that today I would "go shopping" at the Salvation Army. I expected for it to be a sort of treat for me because I really love shopping for clothes.

The second-hand store was not the only place that I went, however. After the first time that I went to the SA ('cause I went twice), I went to the mall in search of a cool key chain and to look at some shoes. By the middle of the trip I was like a nervous wreck. My chest was tight, it hurt. Things of this sort. It feels like it was only an attack of neurosis, or just high levels of anxiety.

I am spent! That was tiring! All that worrying made it worse!

For a very long time now, I have noticed that every time I go shopping for clothes, two issues arise, the shape of my body, age, and money. Today, I am a size W34 in pants, and I want to be a size W32. When I was a teenager, I oscillated between 28 and 30, and I miss those days.

There were some pants that I really liked. The store had tagged them as being W34, so everything seemed fine. On the interior, though, the pant said W32. I did not want to buy non-refundable pants if I was not sure they were 34's. So I went to the back of the store, and asked for a re-measure. The lady came up with W34, but the pants seemed small. Since I was there, I asked the lady if she could measure me. It is not store policy, so she hesitated, but I insisted charmingly until the lady accepted. She came up with 38! I felt devastated! Now what was I going to do?

I felt angry and I wanted to go to my tailor and ask her to measure me and to give me some accurate sizes! I was also devastated because I could not take those cool pants home! So I took the rest of the things I had collected, and left the pants, and drove to the mall.

There was one moment at the SA where I had had enough of feeling fat and I resolved to go on a strict diet and a strict exercise regimen to get back to my normal weight. And I blamed my mom for the fact that I struggle to stay in shape.

My rationale went like this: I live with her, and therefore, often I eat what she makes. Sometimes I just can't say no to her food. If she didn't offer me her food, or make fattening food often, I would not be fat today. If I had separated from my mother already, and was living by myself, living my own life, I would be eating how I wanted to, I'd be in shape and I would not be having these attacks of shame and anxiety at the second-hand store. Aaaaargh!

By the time I was at the mall I began to wonder if I was not spending too much time doing nothing. Despite of this, I relaxed, and spent a lot of time looking at beautiful girls. I also noticed about half a dozen shops that had gone out of business. This reminded me of the economic recession. I did not find a key chain but at Macy's I saw some Lucky You jeans. They were size 34, for $100. I tried them on and they fit very well. I put them back on the rack and returned to the SA for those jeans. Even though they were not as large on the waist as the pants at Macy's, I bought them anyway. They were $7.

So I did what I wanted but I was not sure if it was the "right" thing to do (because what if they still don't fit) and felt resentful because I had to resort to such doubts and debates rather than just being skinny and putting on whatever I wanted without second thought. I am home and I still have not tried them on because, frankly, they look small and because I am going to hate myself if I spent $8 in vain and bought something as irrationally as I did these pants.


I am so exhausted! These small dramas take so much from me!