The Hotness Scale.

Saturday night was a night I should have enjoyed from the start. My feyonceee had taken the night off and we were headed out with friends for a birthday dinner and so on. Prior to getting ready for our evening out, I had worked a 10 hour day filled with apartment showings back to back. The showings included the building’s many outdoor amenity spaces, it was legitimately 97 degrees, I was dressed in a full black suit, oh, and it was my time of the month! To all the men out there that want to X out of this post now, get the eff over yourselves, grow up, and recognize. I imagine the ladies yelling, “Preach, Sass!”

Anyway, point is that I was not feeling trim and sexy. I was feeling hot, swollen, and gross. I showered and spent 45 minutes doing my hair only to find that due to the humidity, my hair did not want to do what I wanted it to do. It wanted to do, what it wanted to do, which was nothing fabulous. I decided I would wear my hair up, no problem, pull a Kim K.

Next on the “getting ready agenda” was my outfit. Due to the time of the month situation, this was a challenge. All of my skirts that are tight up over the hips would not work, I felt like I had an effing fupa! I didn’t even try my dresses, I knew they would be horrible. I would normally go to tight jeans and a flowy shirt, but let me remind you, it was NINETY-SEVEN DEGREES!!! The issue came down to this: I couldn’t stand to wear anything so big and accommodating to my current situation, for fear of looking (and feeling) frumpy and fat-tastic, but anything too tight would make me look like a “10 pound sausage in a 5 pound casing” (thank you, Caroline Manzo). I settled on a black skirt that I haven’t worn in what feels like decades and a bright yellowish/greenish peplum shirt. Fine. I also had to wear my hair down because in this peplum shirt, if I wore it up, my feeling fat arms would be exposed. As would my feeling fat face. Fine. Hair down. Looks terrible.

We got to the restaurant and I had that realization that all women have had at some point in their lives, “I’m not the hottest girl in the group tonight.” Sounds awful, I’m sure, to the men who have actually managed to keep reading, having not gotten scared off by the involvement of a woman’s period in this post, but this is what women do. We size each other up and figure out in our minds where we stack up against the others. It truly says nothing, absolutely nothing, about my feelings for these women, it actually says more about how I feel about myself. Let me explain: When I am out and feeling AMAZE that is really all that matters to me. It’s not that I don’t notice the other women, because I do, but when I’m feeling hot, I don’t care to compare myself to anyone else. I feel superior. When I feel great, I am 10 times more likely to compliment another woman, “Ohh my gawd you look amazing!” But when I am not feeling hot, I shy away from complimenting other women. Why? Because it automatically draws attention to the fact that, compared to her, I look and feel like poop. Women are effed up. It’s the truth.

Needless to say, the beginning portion of my night was ruined. What’s amazing, and actually quite a shame, is that during this time, most women in the group (and some men), were only noticing my new engagement ring and my gorgeous Valentino shoes! To me, unfortunately, it didn’t matter much. In my mind I could only picture this diamond ring and Rockstuds on a beached whale. I was having some kind of Shallow Hal moment – they saw skinny Sass and I saw Rosemary.

Now, am I exaggerating? Yes. Am I a fat person? No. But did I see a picture of myself from that night and de-tag it immediately? Yes. Why? Because I don’t need to be reminded of the experience and because, well, I did look a bit swollen.

This experience was so jarring for me because I hadn’t had it in a long time. As most know, I lost a good amount of weight a year and a half ago. I used to have that Saturday night feeling all the time but I reached a point of utter disgust and complete rage and made a change. Since then I have maintained a weight that I am satisfied with, always fluctuating a bit, but never too far off course. I’ve completely forgotten about assessing the hotness scale when I walk into a room because it doesn’t matter to me. When life is trim and toight in the tummy, arms, neck, and thigh regions the insecurities that drive me to do that are nonexistent. Basically, out of sight, out of mind, becomes out of fatness, out of insecurities that make you give two shits about how good the person next to you looks.

I’m no where near where I was a year and a half ago, pre-weight loss, but some of my feelings that night could have been alleviated by a run here or there. And ya know what I did yesterday? I ran. I ran in the 95 degree weather, wanted to die, but did it. I wish I could say that this means that my period will never make me feel like Fat Amy ever again, because all women know it won’t, but that run made me feel like Gisele today. I looked in the mirror after my shower, did the nod thing I do to myself, because I noticed my stomach going back to freaking normal #ThankYouJesus. It was difficult to even write this post because truly a day after that time of the month ends, it’s a whole new world out there! The sun is brighter, the leaves are greener, and my stomach, neck, and fingers are smaller!

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BAM! And we’re back!

Moral of this story is that sometimes your insecurities get the best of you. I know I’m not fat but I was beyond uncomfortable Saturday night, mainly for reasons outside of my control, but it had an effect on me. An effect that I recognized immediately, from what feels likes a lifetime ago, when I felt uncomfortable every day. Sometimes you just feel shitty about yourself, it happens. If this was any consistent pattern, I’d be throwing out some inspirational quotes right now, but it’s not. It was one night, it sucked, and it’s over. Period, the end.

See what I did there?

– Sass

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About sasssays

The trials, the tribulations, and the triumphs of a sassy and sophisticated 20 something girl
This entry was posted in detox, it's a girl thang, Life & It's Changes, life as I know it, Rant, Totally Random and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Hotness Scale.

  1. Sass, we ALL feel like this! I bet every female I know can relate to this, I am totes with you. And now you can just say “Bye, Poop!” (in my new catchphrase that I stole from my 16 month old nephew who is hilarious and uses it as the toddler equivalent to Bye, Felicia) to that night and move forward with your fabulous self. And MEGA props to you for running in 95 degree heat – that shit cray. ❤ ❤ Gisele. Just sayin’. 😉

    • sasssays says:

      “Bye, Poop!” I love it. That’s adorable…and well said! Oh well, it was miserable but it’s definitely over and done with. I realized after reading your post that I wasn’t writing much when I ran the 1/2, perhaps I should reflect and post something now. Blogger wheels are turning! 🙂

  2. Pingback: What Would Nikki Bella Do? | sassarella says

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