I? applied for a job transfer. the clothes that I have now? are perfect for my current job, but not dressy enough for my hopeful. so I decided to be optimistic and look for a new suit. I went online and found 7 suits at Pennies that I absolutely loved. and I was beyond excited to actually get to the store to find the perfect one.

tonight? I went suit shopping. I picked out two of the seven suits to try. and I grabbed three sizes: the size I wanted to be, the size I thought I actually was, and the size I hoped to god I wasn't.

the first? unsurprisingly couldn't be zipped up. the second? closer, but not quite there. the third? the top fit perfectly and the pants rode up my ass crack. *le sigh* so, I resigned myself that I would have to try the offically fat sizes. the dreaded "w" sizes. (by the way...what does "w" stand for, anyway? wide load? walrus ass? eh?) and those? the top was like wearing a freaking bag and the bottoms....bagged in the belly area. meh. and also? the bottoms AGAIN rode up my ass crack. what.the.fuck. I was offically humiliated...devastated....demoralized. apparantly, I am built like a freak.

I spent the entire drive home mentally beating myself up. and by the time I pulled into the driveway I was convinced I was an ugly, freaky, oddly shaped BLOB that deserved nothing more than to crawl into a hole and just die already. (yes, I am a drama queen...why do you ask?)

Doug made the mistake of asking how shopping went. and then? I burst into tears and bawled like a baby. which was undoubtedly uncomfortable for him, seeing as in the seven plus years we've been together? he's never seen me have a mental breakdown and act like an insane person. (I hide my crazy rather well, normally.)

I'm not sure what I said actually made sense, even to me. but it involved words such as fucking. and fat. and cow. and then? I told him I was going to go into work tomorrow and tell them I didn't want that damn job anyway because I was too fucking fat and I was never EVER never going through trying on clothes again.

and at that point in my tirade? Doug told me that he would kick my ass if I gave up that easily. and oh, by the way? crazy woman? I love you. and you tried ONE STORE. one. other stores have other clothes and someone carries clothes that will fit. (oh, the voice of sanity and reason. how I missed thee.)

sooooo...as soon as I get over my pity party I will buck up and risk the shopping and the trying on of clothes and the humiliation again. and I WILL find something that fits my freakishly built body. because goddamn it...I want that job. and to get that job? I MUST get new clothes. ego and self esteem be damned.