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mrs robinson / wrong fic / communing with furniture
Knoxville, Mrs. Robinson, sexy againMr. Glove has nerdy hobbies of his own, and yesterday we went to Knoxville to hang out with some of his hobby-nerd pals. It's tube audio. I don't understand the technical aspects, but it sounds lovely, so I'm all for it. I really went along, though, because I could go see Rhi while we were there.
I'd met a few of these people before. One of them, Mr. B, and his wife, S., had met us for dinner about two years ago when I was close to being my heaviest. I am 5'9" and I can carry quite a bit of weight without being laugh-and-point heavy, but I was still obviously overweight. I lost about 40 lb. when I switched antidepressants (!!!!), and this latest 15 lb makes for 55 since I last saw Mr. B. He was at the tube nerdy thing yesterday and was extremely enthusiastic about my appearance, to the point where I walked in on him telling someone how fantastic I looked. He apparently told Mr. Glove how fantastic I looked. It's really nice to hear that, because everyone else has seen me throughout the process, so there's never any dramatic difference unless I point it out and/or remove clothing to prove it.
Not to mention, Mr. B's son showed up. Mr. B's son is probably just a little bit too old to be my son, but ohmygodwhatahottie. I had a total Mrs. Robinson spazz attack and was sure everyone could tell I wanted to drag him off into the bushes. It was bad enough that I realized I would not be able to talk to him, as I'd be inappropriately flirtatious and suggestive and would make everyone feel awkward. So, instead, I had to behave like a junior high girl with a crush, i.e., staring while trying not to get caught, avoiding talking or contact, etc. In fact, when we left, Mr. Glove shook the kid's hand and I started to put mine out, but I realized that if I touched him, I'd have to lick my own fingers and that would be just too fucked up. So I smiled and acted like an adult. At an early point in the evening I had squeed into Mr. Glove's ear (because we're weird like that) and so he was catching me staring at the kid and laughing at me and it was just too mortifying all around. Yeah. Good times.
And, yes, of course the kid knew. I wanted him to know, but I'm sure it was just freaky (i.e., wife of his dad's friend) and not sexy at all.
And I wasn't consciously thinking about it today, but the warm glow of having someone notice the weight loss and think I look terrific must have led me to try on some old clothing. Things I love that I haven't worn in years because, well, I couldn't. I used to dress very...elaborately. In high school I basically wore costumes. From late teens through early twenties, I toned it down a little bit, and in my late 20s, I was a sort of bohemian DKNY ad. And then I quit smoking and gained about 80 lb.
I got rid of a lot of my old clothes because, really, I'm never going to be a size 6 again. I have hips, and it took me way too long to figure out that there was only so much dimension I could rid myself of before I got down to bone... But even with the closet purge, I kept a lot of things because they were too dear or beautiful or both for me to get rid of. There's a woman in Seattle, Darbury Stenderu (if that's what she's still calling herself), who does/did these amazing things with dye and silk velvet, making up garments in very simple shapes. I've got a bunch of her pieces, all of them about 10-12 years old now, amazing, multicolored silks, but my favorite was always my "sweatshirt." Black-on-blue-on-blue silk velvet, long-sleeved tunic with a wide neck edged in a sort of thick piping of the same fabric. Just a big, long-sleeved t-shirt, basically. It was my favorite shirt for years and years, and I wore it constantly. I haven't been able to fit into it for about seven years.
Today it fit.
It's still closer than I'd like around the hips, but it's not pulled tight or touching. This is emotionally more affecting than I wish it were...but I'm happy. Happy that maybe I'll be "me" again someday.
And there are other things that fit, or are close to fitting properly again, but the blue velvet shirt is like a skin and I'm thrilled that I can be comfortable in it again.
Of course, it's 90-some degrees out, but theoretically comfortable.
a good friend: Rhi says she can tell I lost weight. I already loved her, but now I love her more. We only got a couple hours together, since Mr. Glove and I had to come back to Nashville last night. We talked about her wrong, wrong, wrong idea for a Mex story. Despite thinking it's wrong, I totally encouraged her. Heh. Because it's the kind of wrong I want to read.
communing with furniture: Besides making burlesque costumes for Kicky, I'm going to help her design her new salon. As for howI we want it to look, I am naturally full of strong opinions. She was going to pay some semi-inept metal worker to create a reception desk for her, but I insisted that an old Steelcase desk stripped of its paint and the bare metal laquered would be exactly perfect. I did point out that in a real city, this sort of desk sells at a premium and worried about finding one, but apparently one was sending me psychic emanations because we went out the next day and found one for $30 in perfect shape. Even after paying a couple hundred to have the paint stripped, it will still be about a fifth of the cost from a furniture dealer and it will be fucking cool. We're going to try to find someone who has that old marbelized formica from the 50s to make a red top for it. And I'm totally jealous that she has it, not me.
Oh, well. Apparently I'm on the Steelcase wavelength, so eventually I'll find one for me. Now I just need to start channeling Heywood-Wakefield and I'll be set...
oh, yeah: I've done a project for an LJ community that's...pretty fucking cool. Hopefully, you'll all get to see (etc.) it sooner than later...
I'd met a few of these people before. One of them, Mr. B, and his wife, S., had met us for dinner about two years ago when I was close to being my heaviest. I am 5'9" and I can carry quite a bit of weight without being laugh-and-point heavy, but I was still obviously overweight. I lost about 40 lb. when I switched antidepressants (!!!!), and this latest 15 lb makes for 55 since I last saw Mr. B. He was at the tube nerdy thing yesterday and was extremely enthusiastic about my appearance, to the point where I walked in on him telling someone how fantastic I looked. He apparently told Mr. Glove how fantastic I looked. It's really nice to hear that, because everyone else has seen me throughout the process, so there's never any dramatic difference unless I point it out and/or remove clothing to prove it.
Not to mention, Mr. B's son showed up. Mr. B's son is probably just a little bit too old to be my son, but ohmygodwhatahottie. I had a total Mrs. Robinson spazz attack and was sure everyone could tell I wanted to drag him off into the bushes. It was bad enough that I realized I would not be able to talk to him, as I'd be inappropriately flirtatious and suggestive and would make everyone feel awkward. So, instead, I had to behave like a junior high girl with a crush, i.e., staring while trying not to get caught, avoiding talking or contact, etc. In fact, when we left, Mr. Glove shook the kid's hand and I started to put mine out, but I realized that if I touched him, I'd have to lick my own fingers and that would be just too fucked up. So I smiled and acted like an adult. At an early point in the evening I had squeed into Mr. Glove's ear (because we're weird like that) and so he was catching me staring at the kid and laughing at me and it was just too mortifying all around. Yeah. Good times.
And, yes, of course the kid knew. I wanted him to know, but I'm sure it was just freaky (i.e., wife of his dad's friend) and not sexy at all.
And I wasn't consciously thinking about it today, but the warm glow of having someone notice the weight loss and think I look terrific must have led me to try on some old clothing. Things I love that I haven't worn in years because, well, I couldn't. I used to dress very...elaborately. In high school I basically wore costumes. From late teens through early twenties, I toned it down a little bit, and in my late 20s, I was a sort of bohemian DKNY ad. And then I quit smoking and gained about 80 lb.
I got rid of a lot of my old clothes because, really, I'm never going to be a size 6 again. I have hips, and it took me way too long to figure out that there was only so much dimension I could rid myself of before I got down to bone... But even with the closet purge, I kept a lot of things because they were too dear or beautiful or both for me to get rid of. There's a woman in Seattle, Darbury Stenderu (if that's what she's still calling herself), who does/did these amazing things with dye and silk velvet, making up garments in very simple shapes. I've got a bunch of her pieces, all of them about 10-12 years old now, amazing, multicolored silks, but my favorite was always my "sweatshirt." Black-on-blue-on-blue silk velvet, long-sleeved tunic with a wide neck edged in a sort of thick piping of the same fabric. Just a big, long-sleeved t-shirt, basically. It was my favorite shirt for years and years, and I wore it constantly. I haven't been able to fit into it for about seven years.
Today it fit.
It's still closer than I'd like around the hips, but it's not pulled tight or touching. This is emotionally more affecting than I wish it were...but I'm happy. Happy that maybe I'll be "me" again someday.
And there are other things that fit, or are close to fitting properly again, but the blue velvet shirt is like a skin and I'm thrilled that I can be comfortable in it again.
Of course, it's 90-some degrees out, but theoretically comfortable.
a good friend: Rhi says she can tell I lost weight. I already loved her, but now I love her more. We only got a couple hours together, since Mr. Glove and I had to come back to Nashville last night. We talked about her wrong, wrong, wrong idea for a Mex story. Despite thinking it's wrong, I totally encouraged her. Heh. Because it's the kind of wrong I want to read.
communing with furniture: Besides making burlesque costumes for Kicky, I'm going to help her design her new salon. As for how
Oh, well. Apparently I'm on the Steelcase wavelength, so eventually I'll find one for me. Now I just need to start channeling Heywood-Wakefield and I'll be set...
oh, yeah: I've done a project for an LJ community that's...pretty fucking cool. Hopefully, you'll all get to see (etc.) it sooner than later...
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Yeah, it can be like rediscovering one's old self. I know it's like that for me.
(I have to admit that I still have a pair of 7th grade jeans that I can never part with. I know there's no way in hell that I'll ever fit into them again -- and do I really want to? -- but I still have them.)
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So, yeah. I know of which you speak ;)
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As for Darbury Stenderu - of course I couldn't resist looking her up. Not only does she still exist, but she's HOT (if that's her on the front of her website). In case you're interested:
http://www.darburystenderu.com/
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Considering how beautiful her work is, that is possibly the ugliest website I've seen, though. Her textiles deserve much better. I need to finish learning Flash so I can approach people like her with my mad skillz because that's really just unacceptable...
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