lovingasoldier.com

I am not sure why, but more often than I care to acknowledge, we, as women, put each other down.  A lot.  It’s like we have a propensity to judge and tear each other apart.  I’m not saying we’re all like that, but let’s be real; it happens.

Friday, May 4th, was the Army Aviation Association of America (AAAA) Ball at the Seoul Grand Hyatt, and my husband and were in attendance.  Since we are in Korea, I decided to get a dress made for the event.  I searched through dresses online for what seemed like 10 or 15 years and came across a few that I liked.  The only limiting factor was if I’d be able to pull the dress off.  (As in, look good in the dress, not taking it off… Silly.)  Ultimately, the one I chose was a strapless, floor-length black gown.  Beautiful.  But, um… here’s the thing: I’ve never worn anything outside of the confines of my own home that exposed my arms.  Oh, the horror.  I’m a fat girl, and fat girls don’t typically wear sleeveless, well, anything.  I tossed the idea around.  Maybe I could wear a shrug with the dress.  Or a shawl.  Or maybe I could scrap the dress altogether and find a lovely velour sweatsuit instead.  I brought my design to the seamstress and asked her to make the dress.  No shrug, no shawl, nothing covering my arms.  And I left thinking, What the hell did I just do?

So, I thought about it.  I stared at my arms for a long time in the mirror.  My arms don’t look that bad.  I mean, they’re fat; I’m fat.  But they’re just arms.  It’s not like my hoo-ha was hanging out.  Why don’t men get all funny about their arms?  Or about anything for that matter?  (ArmyWifeDUDE, care to chime in?)  My husband is a beefy guy.  He’s got a little bit of a gut, but you’d think he has a six-pack the way he walks around without a shirt.  Where do I get that confidence from?  Sign me up for some of that.  While I understand that confidence is one thing and delusion is another, ladies, they’re just arms.  Why are we so self-conscious about something so ridiculous?  I am acutely aware of all the things that are wrong with me.  We, women, sometimes look at other women and think, Why is she wearing that?  Or, Ugh, she thinks she’s SO pretty.  We can be catty, and I think my fear of wearing this gown was coming from the idea that the women there were going to poke fun at me and judge me.  But you know what?  My husband thinks I’m hot.  Whether I’m in a raggedy t-shirt that has holes in it or all dressed up for a ball, he reacts the same way — he tells me I’m beautiful, and he loves me.  At the end of the day, I wasn’t dressing up for anyone but my husband and me.

Anyway, I did it.  I donned the strapless, floor-length black gown.  Not one person pointed at my arms and laughed — in my face, anyway — so that was a plus.  I felt beautiful in the dress, and I’m glad I put on my big girl panties and went for it.  The only thing in this world that is stopping you from doing what you want to do is you.  From changing careers to meeting new people to wearing a strapless ball gown, it’s all possible.