It had been a bleak year. I started taking anti-depressants and was slowly putting on weight, as the side effects had warned. This alone was not a problem: guys always told me I was a little too skinny and that I had a bony butt, so I actually enjoyed having a juicy badonkadonk for the first time in my life. But as I packed on more pounds on my slender frame, my clothes stopped fitting. J.Crew skinny jeans? Couldn’t wear ‘em anymore. Vintage mini-dress? So tight it ripped. Silk blouse? My upper arms no longer fit without gnarly pit stains. I had to chuck tons of panties that now squeezed uncomfortably around my new butt. Not surprisingly, I started to get a little neurotic (and vain) and seriously considered ditching my happy pills in the hopes that I’d get my zippy ol’ metabolism back.
Then my 26th birthday arrived. My boyfriend was out of town on a business trip and left a birthday present waiting for me on our bed. I ripped the paper off and saw a box from one of New York City’s fanciest lingerie stores: inside was an adorable black and pink bra and panties set from Betsey Johnson. He did his sizing-homework in advance: the panties fit my rotund butt, the bra did not pinch my shoulders. And something immediately clicked: I am attractive no matter what size I wear. Sexy lingerie comes in all sizes! I realized I didn’t have to fit into my existing clothes to be sexy; I could still look sexy in sizes that fit me properly.
These days, I’m OK with my weight. But there’s one person who’s not — my mom. Keep reading »