Okay…I woke up this morning with a thought. Usually, when I wake up, my thoughts are kind of dreary especially depending on my dreams. Even though last night I had some unpleasant sex themed dreams, I did not wake up as dreary as usual. As a matter of fact I woke up thinking about a dress. My dress.
Now, this probably flies in the face of yesterday’s post about Femininity. Sort of anyway. I do not wear dresses. I especially don’t wear skirts. I never feel pretty in dresses and/or worthy of wearing dresses. And I never feel worth the expense of dresses. But…..Comic Con. The local Comic Con is at the end of August and I have been pining over a dress for months, like since January. And my want for this dress has been pretty constant and it is perfect for Comic Con. PERFECT!
So…I waited and waited and waited for the dress to go on sale and a week or so ago, it did. So, I pounced. Ordering the dress was kind of an issue because I had no idea what size I would need. And I had to break one of my ED Recovery Rules and measure myself to find out. (Weighing and measuring fuel ED urges.) But I measured anyway and then I ordered two dresses. One that fits my measurements now and one a size smaller because <ahem> since restricting is never far from the surface, I wanted to make sure I had a dress that fit properly at Comic Con.
Yesterday, the dresses came. I tried on both and the dress that fits my measurements fits PERFECTLY. Like it was tailored for me. And you know what? I felt amazing in the dress. I love how pretty it is, how nicely it fits and how it looks on my body. And I even love the little bit of twirl to the skirt. And as I looked in the mirror, I thought that my body looked pretty good in the dress. Yup, I actually entertained a positive thought about my body. (And maybe I will be brave enough to post a picture of me in the dress someday!)
When I woke up this morning, I was still feeling a bit giddy about this amazing dress and how it looked on me and how pretty it is. And then…(I tell you, I am on a roll)…I thought, “Well, what if it isn’t just the dress that is pretty? What if me being in the dress is part of what makes it pretty? What if I am pretty?” This is kind of an earth shattering concept and one that at the moment, I don’t buy into. But….then I was thinking about how I think my body is disgusting. And then…Then I had the beginnings of what is perhaps an epiphany.
What if it’s not me that is disgusting and wrong? What if the sexual abuse was disgusting and wrong, but when it happened I was to young to differentiate?
Yup. That’s something to think about.
And then I thought about this and thought maybe I would post it again: