I was talking with two other women at the gym last night as we were sorting through a bunch of clothes. One of the women, Nancy, has been seeing the same personal trainer as I have, and she had a bunch of clothes that were too large for her, so Julie Anne, my trainer, suggested that she bring them in for me and Mae, who will be losing weight *into* those sizes, which will save us from having to shop, for a while. So Mae and I split up the clothes, which worked out really, really well for me, since my tastes and Nancy's are apparently more alike, so I got a *ton* of clothes. Mae took what she liked, but she doesn't wear patterns, and she doesn't wear things without sleeves, or short sleeves, etc. So there wasn't as much there that she would ever wear.
So we were talking about our fitness, and weight loss, and the odd places that weight's been disappearing from. Mae says she's gone down in shoe size from the weight loss! I know that I've lost weight in my hands, which I found weird, since I never thought of my hands as being fat... Nancy was talking about how she's had to go shopping, and she still finds herself buying clothes for her *old* body, which means they're too large for her now. And she said, she *knows* how much she weighs, and she *knows* what size she fits into, but in her mind, in her mental image of herself, she's still bigger, and she picks up the wrong clothes.
Which reminded me of, well, me. Only in reverse. For years, I've known my weight. But I didn't see myself as how I really was. I'd watch the very beginning of the Biggest Loser show, where everyone shows up and they weigh them, and they tell their story? And some of the women weighed *less* than me. Some of them more, or about the same. And I'd sit on the couch and think, '*wow*, they're *FAT*!' and 'well, but I *carry* the weight much better. *I* don't look like *that*.' Right, well, here's the thing. I did. But I didn't *see* it.
I'd avoid getting my picture taken, and if I had to, just say, oh, well, I don't photograph well, or it's the light, the outfit, the...'insert excuse here'. Fat on the arms? Long sleeves! Cause *nobody* can *see* that your arms are fat if they're covered by cloth! Not true. They're still fat, and everyone can see that.
For me, I suspect that much of my fascination with 'modesty', with dresses and skirts and loose, loose clothes, covering from the collar bone all the way to the floor, was an effort to hide me from myself, and everyone else. And that's just wrong.
While modesty is, in part, about your clothes, it's more about your attitude and how you present yourself to the world.
I read a post earlier where the author was remembering being in a shop in the ME and *everything* in the shop stopping for the niqabi at the counter. And how she was so modest, and yet her every gesture was feminine and commanded the room. Which, okay, maybe it's just me, but if your goal is modesty, how is it modest if the way that you act/speak/move/whatever basically stops traffic? This just proved to me that it's *more* about you and how you act than what you're wearing. Because you can obviously be covered head to toe, and still draw attention if you want to. And women *know* when we're doing that. We do. It's *deliberate*.
So I'm wearing jeans and a sleeveless top to work. :p