I went to my gynecologist yesterday for my follow up and he suggested the wait and see approach to my marathon bleed before pharmaceutical intervention. As long as it's not out of control or have pain or fever, I should wait it out. Which is what I thought he would say. No surprise. He also said he had no idea of whether I was having a true menses or whether it was a result of the embolization. Really? Once again, I am the expert of my own uterus. My patience is wearing thin, and my sluggishness is making me look for sugary comfort in treats. I'm just going to let my body do its best to heal itself and return to its regular programming. I'm taking my iron (as I am soooo tired), keep working out, and I'm also going to look at alternatives. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know.
I should have brought my husband along so he could complain. He's very unhappy about not having access to my skinny self, but in a way, it's kind of funny. Everyone is high fiving me and complimenting me and calling me hot and he can't get a piece. I've told him that a brave soldier shouldn't be afraid of blood, but so far he's holding out. I don't feel particularly sexy with AF tagging along everywhere I go anyway.
I just spent the last two evenings in a coaching workshop with other actors and creative people. My assignment for Friday (that I had to fit in between the doctor's appointment and a funeral -which is another post). I was supposed to go to a very high end store and go try on fabulous, sexy clothes. This was a risk for me because for years, I never would have dared because number one, I couldn't afford it and two, they would never have my size.
Do you know how humiliating it is to see a wonderful outfit in a window, go into a store and then as you're looking through the racks, you realize they don't even carry your size? Can I help you? Uh, no, just looking... for my younger sister. And yes, I went to a Lane Bryant store at one point when I was in the States cause I thought their fashions were really hip and the salespeople ignored me and when I finally did get their attention, the smallest of their sizes didn't fit me properly because I actually didn't have the proportions of a plus sized woman. I'm not a teenager anymore but I'm not a matron either. And when The Limited stopped carrying size 14 a few years ago, I just about killed somebody!
So anyways, after finally getting parking (which isn't easy in this city), I opened the door to a boutique whose windows I've admired for years. Lo and behold, I didn't like anything in the store and it was geared for petite middle aged (though fashion forward) women. I wouldn't have been able to get my arm in any of the blazers. So on to the Max Mara store next door. By the way, did you ever notice how heavy those doors are to get into the stores? Like only the wealthy have the nerve to go in. Okay, so I go in and I take a good browse around. There was this very pretty Asian girl trying on a beautiful lavender flowered gown. I start to get nervous, she's a size 0, do they even have that in my size? I look around but I don't see any of those dresses. Maybe it was a special order. I try to find a dress (I currently own 2) because my friend is getting married in Europe in the summer and she asked me to be her maid of honour and I get to wear what I want. I settle on a black and white checked, empire waisted number, the skirt is silk and flows away from the body. I swallow and ask for a size 12. The salesperson doesn't laugh out loud. They don't have it, but because of the cut, I figure I can try the size 10. I get Nine West high heeled shoes to try on with it. If she thinks I'm coming out of the room to stand next to the size 0, she's crazy. I actually get into the 10, zipped up and all, but the ribbon straps are too short and I'm a bit squeezed in. I've got broad shoulders. I start to focus on the small dark scars on my ankles and my big bat wing arms and quickly tell that evil you're not small enough, you're not good enough,take it off you might break it voice to SHUT UP.
BUT I actually look pretty good. I look at the price tag. it's over $1200. Cough. It's rent money, down payment on a car, for crying out loud! Calm down, it's okay, they don't know I can't buy this. Yet. The detailing, the stitching, the silky material is incredible. I feel - ohmigosh - glamorous. This is what it must feel like to try something on without considering the price. I suddenly feel like I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE WORTH IT. If I actually worked out some more, I might actually be able to fit into this and look even better. I've never actually put on something I couldn't afford. I've seen my soon to be married friend shop this way. I've never seen anyone try something on without looking at the tag first.
The salesperson brings me another dress when I tell her this one doesn't really fit. She brings me a black, jersey knit dress with a shirred waist and a deep V neck. Looks like shit, but I try it on anyway. It's a size 48 European which is 14 American/Canadian. It's too big. Hah. I stay safely ensconced in my spacious dressing room. That size 0 still might be out there. And it looks really blah. The jersey draped nicely over my hips, and it feels heavily exquisite. But still blah. which is what I tell the woman as I leave. She offers me a catalogue which is written in Italian and full of impractical things to wear, but I take it. I ask her if they will be getting more "colour" in. I might even go back to look at the pants.
I can't believe it took me over 10 years to go into those stores. I'm worth it.