So- (back story to the actual story), a few weeks ago I was with some of my wonderful girlfriends, Hilah and Septembre (and later on Nikki), and we were at Washington Square Mall doing some (last-minute) christmas shopping. Having Hilah on board we were somehow bound to wind up in Victoria Secret, where Septembre moseyed through racks and Hilah ping-ponged herself through the store lavishing herself with the rich fabrics and the sleek designs; I, on the other hand,- awkwardly stood to the side, following a few steps behind the girls, keeping my head down, fiddling with my fingers or strings from my clothes, doing anything to shoo away the most uncomfortable knot that sat in the pit of my stomach.
I'm twice the size of these girls, I've never even considered going into Victoria Secret let alone actually looking at their products. But soon enough Hilah was leading me around the store blindly asking me non-sensical questions like "Have you tried this bra?" "Have you ever worn this style panty?" etc etc. I answered the only way I had ever answered those kind of questions before, "no".
"What do you mean?" Hilah pressed (as Hilah does).
"I've never owned anything like this before", I shyly ducked behind a display case.
"Well, then we'll just have to get you sized",- and that's where it began, and then ended twenty minutes later with me leaving the store with my very first Victoria Secret bra and my very first pair of lace panties....I didn't quite know what to do with myself.
I learned to love them though- feeling like a "women", (what ever that means) when I wore them.
But I was still the same, insecure, unsure, and self-concious, plus-size girl I had been all the time before. It's hard to hide your size when you're sitting in a girls row of size 4-or-less girls; you're kind of the weed in a sea of wildflowers, and a simple set of undergarments wasn't going to change that.
But the other night, in the midst of usual Saturday Night Scene chaos, all of which includes me dashing through the back doors of the MacStage, grabbing my dress and leggings that I was supposed to have on in less then a song, and making the almost impossible wardrobe change in the moldy cramped bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the yellowing mirror that hung above the glass sink, and I saw someone I don't remember seeing before. That day I happened to wear my matching bra and panties, and while pulling and tossing clothes to and from the counter, off and then on my body, I saw- the full hips of a woman, a waist not depicted by a size based on media, strong arms molded by the industrious world, hands beautifully calloused from years of pencil pushing, thighs that were thick and full of elegance, a face full in bloom with confidence and spotless with enchantment- I saw her there in the mirror for just that second- a glimpse into someone that was hiding behind this bulky ill fitted form. She might of been there for a moment, or maybe I made her up in my imagination, but I look back on her memory and remind myself often that "Charm is decietful, and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord shall be praised" (Prov 31:30), and just hope that everyone remembers that when they see me enter the room.
Thanks for letting me share.
-Kaylee Gemm Johnson.
