so - first I need to give a little back story here. A group of women friends and I used to go to Vegas once a year for a motorcycle event called Femmoto - it was heavenly. All the manufacturers were there to allow us to test ride their latest motorcycles on the Las Vegas race track. Heavenly I tell you. Several years ago, after a long day at the track, we all headed back to our hotels to freshen up and then hit the town. The first part of the evening was to be spent shopping...you can see where this is going.
Let me just add that on the day I left for my trip, my work informed me that I wouldn't have a job when I returned. Thanks a-holes. The trip was already paid for so we went anyway.
I was tired, we'd just stuffed our faces at a buffet (my friends range in size from amazingly in shape to very normal - I was by far the largest - probably 225 or so at the time). We hit a few of the shops where I watched everyone else in the group go in, try stuff on, bond in the usually girly fashion over the top of the dressing room doors and in front of 3-way mirrors. An evil I try to avoid. My girlfriends were buying clothes right and left and I didn't even try anything on - why bother, these stores didn't make my size and I was unemployed. But I enjoyed watching my friends have fun.
Until we got to Victoria Secret. I couldn't even go in the store. I'm relatively large chested and big bottomed and Victoria Secret doesn't understand my body type. So I watched from a bench outside the store as my friends filled up their pink shopping totes with wonderful - matching - underware. My husband was the only one who saw the tears slip from my eyes. He tenderly wiped them up, went in the store, explained how tired we were and bid them all goodnight on our behalf.
Not my fondest memory.
This trip we headed to the stores again - window shopping and people watching. I'm not much of a shopper to start with. When I saw Victoria Secret, instead of flooding with the bad memories, I marched in and found an associate and timidly asked her to help me. When she asked what size I was - I just shrugged. I know my 38F is baggy on me - but what that translates to in Victoria Secret size...well, she grabbed a tape measure and we headed for a dressing room. She measured me while another associate jotted notes. They spoke back and forth in 'bra language' and finally turned to me and said "38C"
Huh? Nope. No way. Before I had time to process what that meant, they started asking me more questions I didn't understand (I thought a balcony was something Juliet stood on while Romeo woo'd her...). While one continued to pummel me with confusing questions, the other associate ran off to grab a box-o-bras labeled "38C".
Huh? It still wasn't sinking in.
They left me in peace with the box-o-bras and I started trying them on. There was overflow - they didn't fit. But not by much. And certainly not by the miles and miles I was expecting. So I hit the "help" button and requested the next cup size up.
All the bras in the "38D" box-o-bras DID fit. Me. They. Fit. Me. Me! After I chose my favorite style, they set me loose in the store - sent me in the direction to choose a color and/or print.
They didn't even MAKE a beige bra in the style and size I liked. I was elated. Overjoyed. Amazed. And near tears. Tears of joy this time. Not frustration or isolation. I picked a bra - and here's what nearly sent me over the top: I picked a MATCHING panty. And they weren't white, or beige, or black...they're spicy and colorful and FUN!
At this point my husband came looking for me - probably worried that I was balled up in the corner crying again. And I was panty shopping! I found a sale on some panties that have "cheeky" in the name - which is a far cry from the usual "brief" or "hipster" choices that have been my only options in the past. Checking out, they informed me that I'd earned a free Victoria Secret tote bag...me. I've never owned anything from Victoria Secret and now I have a bra, half a dozen panties, and a TOTE BAG! Me.
I held off the tears until the private hotel fashion show for my hubby. He's always made me feel sexy - but this time I started feeling sexy without his help. Does that even make sense?
So there ya go - another NSV. This journey is amazing - the weight loss isn't a surprise, I've done that before. But sustaining it, staying on the journey despite so many obstacles and really feeling like this time - this is it. The rewards are amazing - I could never have imagined some of the victories I've encountered. We all set rewards for ourselves - new jeans, new hair cut, massage, trips, etc. But this - this is more than I could have even dreamed of for myself. And so much more meaningful. Unplanned and out of the blue - rewards for hard work.
So maybe that's what they should be called. Instead of "Non Scale Victories" - they should be "Hard Work Rewards"
What's your latest HWR??
TTFN,
LauraLynne
Let me just add that on the day I left for my trip, my work informed me that I wouldn't have a job when I returned. Thanks a-holes. The trip was already paid for so we went anyway.
I was tired, we'd just stuffed our faces at a buffet (my friends range in size from amazingly in shape to very normal - I was by far the largest - probably 225 or so at the time). We hit a few of the shops where I watched everyone else in the group go in, try stuff on, bond in the usually girly fashion over the top of the dressing room doors and in front of 3-way mirrors. An evil I try to avoid. My girlfriends were buying clothes right and left and I didn't even try anything on - why bother, these stores didn't make my size and I was unemployed. But I enjoyed watching my friends have fun.
Until we got to Victoria Secret. I couldn't even go in the store. I'm relatively large chested and big bottomed and Victoria Secret doesn't understand my body type. So I watched from a bench outside the store as my friends filled up their pink shopping totes with wonderful - matching - underware. My husband was the only one who saw the tears slip from my eyes. He tenderly wiped them up, went in the store, explained how tired we were and bid them all goodnight on our behalf.
Not my fondest memory.
This trip we headed to the stores again - window shopping and people watching. I'm not much of a shopper to start with. When I saw Victoria Secret, instead of flooding with the bad memories, I marched in and found an associate and timidly asked her to help me. When she asked what size I was - I just shrugged. I know my 38F is baggy on me - but what that translates to in Victoria Secret size...well, she grabbed a tape measure and we headed for a dressing room. She measured me while another associate jotted notes. They spoke back and forth in 'bra language' and finally turned to me and said "38C"
Huh? Nope. No way. Before I had time to process what that meant, they started asking me more questions I didn't understand (I thought a balcony was something Juliet stood on while Romeo woo'd her...). While one continued to pummel me with confusing questions, the other associate ran off to grab a box-o-bras labeled "38C".
Huh? It still wasn't sinking in.
They left me in peace with the box-o-bras and I started trying them on. There was overflow - they didn't fit. But not by much. And certainly not by the miles and miles I was expecting. So I hit the "help" button and requested the next cup size up.
All the bras in the "38D" box-o-bras DID fit. Me. They. Fit. Me. Me! After I chose my favorite style, they set me loose in the store - sent me in the direction to choose a color and/or print.
They didn't even MAKE a beige bra in the style and size I liked. I was elated. Overjoyed. Amazed. And near tears. Tears of joy this time. Not frustration or isolation. I picked a bra - and here's what nearly sent me over the top: I picked a MATCHING panty. And they weren't white, or beige, or black...they're spicy and colorful and FUN!
At this point my husband came looking for me - probably worried that I was balled up in the corner crying again. And I was panty shopping! I found a sale on some panties that have "cheeky" in the name - which is a far cry from the usual "brief" or "hipster" choices that have been my only options in the past. Checking out, they informed me that I'd earned a free Victoria Secret tote bag...me. I've never owned anything from Victoria Secret and now I have a bra, half a dozen panties, and a TOTE BAG! Me.
I held off the tears until the private hotel fashion show for my hubby. He's always made me feel sexy - but this time I started feeling sexy without his help. Does that even make sense?
So there ya go - another NSV. This journey is amazing - the weight loss isn't a surprise, I've done that before. But sustaining it, staying on the journey despite so many obstacles and really feeling like this time - this is it. The rewards are amazing - I could never have imagined some of the victories I've encountered. We all set rewards for ourselves - new jeans, new hair cut, massage, trips, etc. But this - this is more than I could have even dreamed of for myself. And so much more meaningful. Unplanned and out of the blue - rewards for hard work.
So maybe that's what they should be called. Instead of "Non Scale Victories" - they should be "Hard Work Rewards"
What's your latest HWR??
TTFN,
LauraLynne
Comments
I just read this with tears in my eyes. I don't know why it affected me so much, but I'm so happy for you. What a huge accomplishment! Congratulations Congratulations, congratulations. I hope you have many many more fun shopping sprees to come!
xoxo- D
I am not there yet. I went to the secert a few months ago when I was in desperate need for new bras. I am about a 42 DD. Still have some way to go.
thank you everyone - this journey is truly amazing - and supporting and being supported by the blog world is a HUGE part of my success!! thank you thank you - from the bottom of my heart.
If the ladies don't shrink enough, I plan to have SX.