Shopping with the Enemy

Flores Flores 

As I walked through the fabulous selection of Fall/Winter clothes 2016 line that surrounded me at Forever 21, the third stop at the mall, I was growing frustrated… So many clothes yet nothing that looked good on me… or made me 5’11 and a size 3, and made my nose look just a little smaller. I circled the same sections I had already checked out for the last 20 minutes and proceeded to go through them again about 3 times each. Everything I tried on look great on the mannequins and the cute 21 year old models that decorated their walls but once I tried it on, my legs weren’t long enough, my chest looked too big, my ass or thighs looked weird, and almost nothing seem to compliment my body. Thirty minutes later, I’ve had it. I walked over to the cash register to pay for my pair of boots, because, c’mon, Houston has officially gifted us with a winter of fifty-something degrees and as a loyal Texan, I wasn’t going to miss the chance to rock some boots, when suddenly I looked up to see a familiar face.
I wasn’t sure if it was who I thought it was so instead of minding my own business and calling it a day and running the hell away from this place, I followed her. She was standing in the same store as me but with her perfect figure in her perfect pair of boots and her perfect coat and her perfect manicured fingers, seriously, who has time to keep up with their nails nowadays? I, in the other hand, decided that because I was sick, it’d be ok to throw on a baggy shirt that made me look 10 lbs heavier, an old pair tights and the most comfortable pair of flats I own. It was definitely her, the same girl I had done researched on through a friend before saying yes to meet up for a first date with my now beautiful husband. Before you even ask, no she had no idea who I was and yes it was very creepy of me to follow her around. She walked around the same sections I had been by with my heart in my hands, carelessly stacking her arm up with the same clothes who had given me a big fuck you just five minutes before in the fitting room. I wondered if someone so beautiful ever felt so exhausted from walking around the mall for almost an hour and not finding a thing to wear from the hundreds of new arrivals that looked amazing on the skinny drop dead gorgeous models all staring at me. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her, I had before me a woman who my husband, at some point in his life, thought she was perfect for him, I was shopping with the enemy. 

I went ahead and roamed the store again, carefully analyzing the clothes she picked and the ones she left behind from across the room. I was there for thirty minutes more, heart raising and making sure I didn’t look to obvious. As I attempted to concentrate in finding something to wear for this weekend, I collected a couple dresses while whispering a prayer of encouragement, I was going to need it to walk back into that dressing room. 

While faithlessly trying on the last one out of three dresses I had found, I noticed her boots ambling towards her room directly in front of me.
I was putting my shoes on when I heard a door opening. I nervously peeped through the bottom, still kneeling down then quickly got up and slowly peaked through the door only to see this beautiful girl in a peach dress gracing down to the big mirror for all of us to see. I stared at myself in the mirror still trying make sense of the outfit I was wearing when I realized just how unfair I was being with myself. 

I’ve never thought of myself as a pretty or girly-girl. Growing up with two boys (brother and dad) and no sisters, only three brothers, it was hard to be a girl. I always loved playing outside as a kid and I wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty while playing soccer. I watched wrestling, never wore dresses and until I was in the 5th grade, I though boys were gross, to say the least. As a kid, I never wondered if I was pretty enough. Don’t get me wrong, there’s so many things I love about me, inside and out, but as much as I love myself, I never fell in love with my flaws.

I realized I was the most critical towards myself and how sad I felt to finally accept it. The beautiful girl I had been admiring and the models had nothing to do with the way I felt about myself, the real question is why did I find the need to constantly compare myself to everyone. I am in constant battle with myself wether is finding something at home or at the store, it never fails. I was the enemy. 

And like a great American, I am going to blame someone else, the media. I am guilty of watching shows like Keeping up With the Kardashians and scanning through a magazine or two at some point in my life, but listen to me when I say this, the level of wrong with the media and all of their fake shit is out of control and they don’t even care who knows it now. Regular women have been subjected to photoshop the photos they post on IG right before over analyzing every bit of it and think that not being 120 lbs is the end of the world. We are all guilty of wishing to have what someone else has but up to what extent? I don’t like how far I’ve gone.

I am currently working to love myself unconditionally. There is no one in this world that knows you better than you know yourself. Confidence is the best thing a girl can wear.

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