Wear the Damn Dress
By: Leah O'Daniel
Tags: Letters, Self Love, Empowerment, Women, Body Image

Wear the Damn Dress

A letter to myself

Photo by Shane on Unsplash

You know the one. It hangs alone near the back of your closet. You bought it because you saw it and fell in love instantly. You tried it on in a quiet fitting room. Turned around 39 times. Sat down on the bench and arched your back forward and then backward. Sucked in your stomach and pushed out your chest, “correcting my posture”, you said.

You imagined what shoes you could wear. You really loved that damn dress. You envisioned what it would look like with a cardigan and a belt. Thinking “I can hide this part of my body with a wide belt and use the sweater to cover up my flabby arms”. Kitten heels or wedge sandals will help me look taller and less fat in the middle, in this dress.

You told yourself all kinds of things to justify buying that damned dress.

The idea that you could buy it simply because you love the dress didn’t occur. Didn’t register. Didn’t fully register. Eventually, you bought that dress, making mental notes at the checkout that it will be the perfect outfit if you wear Spanx and don’t bend that one way you did in the dressing room.

You brought it home and marveled at its beauty on the hanger. Ten times since, you’ve worked up the courage to put on that dress, overtop the Spanx, both with and without the belt. You’ve stood in front of the mirror combining a million different accessories. Sometimes spending longer fighting with yourself to just wear the damn thing already. Each time though, you convince yourself you are too fat still to wear this dress. Next month you’ll try again when you aren’t so bloated. You’ll skip that post-workout glass of wine, extra calories, and all. Go harder at the gym. Drink more water.

Alas, the dress ends up in a heap on the closet floor as you trade it in for trusty leggings and a sweater. Comfort, convenience, and cover up all in one, tried and true, outfit.

What is it about that dress? What is it that keeps you from just wearing the damn thing?

Oh, I know. That stubborn, pesky, pudgy belly. That belly that has been sucked in, tucked in. Hidden. Shrouded in black clothing. The one that has never been flat. That belly littered with stretch marks and a Mom shelf. That belly, the source of your shame and your guilt. That belly that houses the womb that became a tomb so many times. That belly with the c-section scar. That belly that, despite all this, has never snuggled any of those babies.

That belly keeps you from doing everything.

And it’s enough.

It’s time.

Time to see that belly for the center of strength and power it is. The way it has quietly collected itself to shield you from the world. The way it has grown over the years to symbolize all those amazing meals you’ve shared with people you love. The way it has embraced that expensive, Italian imported wine you splurged for to celebrate meeting a big career goal.

Oh, can’t you see it for this instead?

The way it provided only love to your son. Groomed and cultivated itself to provide the perfect home for him? One that he never felt anything except pure, unadulterated warmth? The way it fought back to keep him nestled in there. The innate power it showed when despite being ripped open and sewn up, it healed anyway. Despite being ridiculed, poked, prodded, and commented about, it kept going.

That belly doesn’t let anything keep it down.

It kept you fed. Kept you warm. Even at it’s lowest. That belly has never wavered. Shouldn’t that be celebrated? Put on display, housed in a museum as a testament to the power you hold — the power all women hold. Can’t you see the strength it has, instead? You’ve let it, with its bottom crease and tiny top fold, create a permeating mess.

Please.

I am begging you.

Wear the damn dress.

Wear it in the sunshine and let your hair fall down your back. Wear it to the party. Wear to the grocery store and wear it some more. Wear it to the restaurant and don’t pack a sweater. This is no longer something to hide.

Just wear the damn dress.

And wear it with pride.