People say horrible things about me on this site. They tell me that I’m stupid, that I’m a terrible parent, that I’m a horrible wife. They tell me that I’m undeserving, shallow and going to hell. They tell me that this is the lamest blog they have ever read and that I should just shut off the computer and disappear forever.
Yes, truly, people tell me that.
But, none of it really phases me (ok, most of it doesn’t phase me.) I know that I’m a good parent, that I’m a good wife and a good person and those people don’t know me at all. Thankfully, I have a really good ability to let the negative stuff roll off me. Except, when the insults are about my appearance. Because that’s the one thing I have doubts about, myself.
When Target approached me with the idea for the Target Fashion Experiment, I was beyond flattered. Freaking Target!
But, the more I read, the more nervous I got. I was basically going to be a paper doll for a month. A real, live Barbie doll who people get to play dress up with. Me, the size 12 with the flabby belly and the upper arms that have never seen the light of day. Um, me?
We were steps away from signing the contract when the PR company asked for my measurements. We’d never talked about it before and my heart dropped: This was it. My weight was actually going to stand in the way of the most exciting opportunity I’d ever received. I felt sick to my stomach. I waited until the latest minute possible and sent off the measurements, along with a note saying I hoped they weren’t looking for a size four. I maniacally waited for the response, hardly breathing. “No, we aren’t looking for a four,” they said. “These are perfect.”
When I arrived at the shoot, I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief as I perused the racks of sizes ranging from 10-14. There were some things that looked absolutely horrible on me, but lots that I did feel comfortable in. I was even able to see the humor when, with no size-large belt in sight, the stylist cut the too-small size across the back and held it together with masking tape. This was going to be OK. I could do this.
Until the confession came last Saturday. The only confession that has left me feeling like I was kicked in the stomach.
“I had no idea Scary Mommy was so large.”
Jeff tried to convince me that whoever the person was, meant it in like, a Wow! She’s big! Successful! Look at this opportunity, kind of way.
Nice try, my love.
But, it’s true. I’m not a size four or six or even an eight. I have lopsided boobs and a flabby belly and a wide back and I really need to lose 15 pounds to be comfortable with myself again. I’m not a model, and I never will be. But, I am a real, live person. I’m a mother and a wife and a blogger and that’s why Target chose me.
And, that’s why this campaign is so awesome.
(Now, I just need to convince myself of it.)