The Ridiculously Priced Prom Dress

Last week I took Sarah Katherine prom dress shopping at the beach, and I spent a ridiculous amount on the dress.  I know that.  I also know that it wasn't because she threw a tantrum (she didn't), begged and pleaded (she didn't), or offered to pay half (she didn't).  No it was all about me, me and my past and if I'm really honest also about me and the present.

When I was 13, I had an eating disorder--that is actually a lie in verb use.  Eating disorders are like any other addiction, they never truly go away; they're managed, controlled, but not cured.  But mine started when I was 13--I was hospitalized; I weighed 49 pounds and for once in my life, my mother thought I looked good. It was the first time (and possibly the only time) she ever offered to take me to buy clothes and didn't tell me I couldn't wear the latest styles because I was too "big". 

I'm built differently than my petite mother and sister.  I was always told, "You take after your father (a college football player).  You have big bones. You have a big butt--we have to try to disguise it."  And I wasn't allowed to wear jeans--I wasn't allowed to wear many things that my "teensy tinsy look just like my mother" sister was allowed to wear.  (and that created it's own set of problems for my sister/best friend--but that's her story)

As I said, while eating disorders can be controlled (not starving myself or binging and purging), they never really go away.  I still can't look in the mirror without finding many flaws in my body.  I still have my "baggy" clothes for when I'm feeling particularly vulnerable, and I still worry that I look ridiculous in stylish clothes.

Sarah Katherine is not built like me.  She doesn't have my bottom or my top--and I know right now she isn't particularly thrilled with how she looks.  (But that's her story to tell, and I for one think she's beautiful!)  It's hard to help a teen dress who has a different body style.  I know what looks okay on my flat chested, big thighed self, but long muscular dancer legs?  This body only likes to pretend it can dance; it never has (deep sigh of relief from my children).  And so knowing all this, I set out with SK and her two close friends to shop for a prom dress.

She tried on so many things.  And just like me (God help me for passing this onto my children), she looked at size labels.  It mattered to her.  I could see it mattered.  There was one dress she loved--on one the zipper was broken and on the other it was a too big.  There were dresses that were okay, there were dresses that weren't flattering, but they were stylish.  There were tears; there was frustration, and while on the outside I remained calm and even toned, on the inside I was screaming and feeling every feeling I had ever felt while shopping with my mother.   Images of those trips played through my mind like a movie.  As the sales clerk brought dresses to SK, I heard in my head my mother saying, "No that will never look good on her; even if that looks good it's too expensive. She's just going to have to settle on something"  I refused to say anything.  She could try on any dress she wanted; I would sit there all day if that's what it took.  Finally she put, THE DRESS on and it was perfect.  It fit perfectly and she beamed.  Truly it looked like it was made for her.  People in the store stopped and said how good it looked; her friends told her how good it looked, and then she looked at the price tag and her face fell.  She told me; I texted Chris and then even though I shouldn't have, (at least as a general rule in marriage),  I disregarded his response.  At that very moment I remembered putting on my junior prom dress that my mother had made; I loved it until she said, "It's a good style for you, covers your big butt."  And I knew even if I had to never buy another purse or pair of shoes, (that is a HUGE sacrifice),  SK was going to wear that dress.  SK was going to get dressed on prom night and feel like a princess; she was going to go to prom and feel good in her dress, feel beautiful in her dress, and perhaps one day she will shop for prom dresses with her daughter and instead of aching and shuddering on the inside she will remember the joy of prom dress shopping.  She will remember the fun of being together and the excitement of finding the perfect dress. 

So I bought that ridiculously priced dress, for SK and for me.  As we walked out of that store, for a moment, that critical voice in my head was silenced and in it's place I heard, "thank you Mama."