The Puffy Vest Debacle

It went a little something like this.... (cue dream fog)

Nannie: Oh! Hey, Kid. Are you here to babysit?
Me: Hey Nannie! Yeah, I'm gonna sit with you this morning. What ya reading?
Nannie: Oh... (looks at book) *sigh* I don't even know. (looks at me) What, um...what is that? (pointing to my chest)
Me: My shirt?
Nannie: No, the other thing.
Me: My vest?
Nannie: Vest. That's it. (frowns)
Me: What about my vest?
Nannie: It makes you look heavy.
Me: ... (consisider making "he's not heavy, he's my vest" joke... decide against it) ... Oh. I like it.
Nannie: You're not heavy, though. Sometimes I think you're too thin.
Me: ... Oh. Well... I like my vest.
Nannie: It looks like you made it out of a... oh, you know. Like you sleep under when it's cold.
Me: A comforter?
Nannie: Right, a comforter.
Me: It's really warm, like a comforter.
Nannie: Maybe it needs... (motions to her arms)
Me: Sleeves?
Nannie: Right, yes. Sleeves. (pauses) But then it would just make your arms look fat.
Me: (thinks about puffy jacket currently in closet at home) Oh... well... I like it anyway.
Nannie: Your arms aren't fat, Kid. I just don't know about that thing.
Me: Well, that's alright. Maybe I don't know about it either.

See, the point here is this: I'm a size 4 in pretty much everything. Occasionally I'm a 2, sometimes (and to much mental disturbance) I'm a 6. Most of my clothes are an S, and all of my North Face clothing (including my THREE Nuptse vests and ONE Nuptse jacket) is an XS. But my Nannie has a point. I'll wait here while you google North Face Nuptse... *hums Jeopardy theme song*

Are you back? Can you see where Nannie was coming from? Unfortunately, now I can see where she's coming from too! I love my vests (in black, brown and teal)-- I love my jacket (black)! They are ludicrously warm, and comfy, and I enjoy the puffiness. One of the things I love most is that it feels precisely like my comforter! I mostly don't CARE if they make me look "heavy"-- I'm NOT heavy, and I know that.

...but I have been "heavy." Actually, having sorted through three million pictures this week, I feel fairly confident in saying that I have been truly fat in the past. I don't mean this in a judgmental, or negative way--I just didn't realize just how round I was. I have issues, sure--find me a lady who doesn't admit to having some issues about her body image and I'll show you a woman in pretty deep denial. But I really thought I was well on my way to being past all that. I eat what I feel like eating, usually in moderation but I don't beat myself up if I want a little more pizza on homemade pizza night sometimes. I work out regularly, though I go through phases of being very scheduled and rigorous, and I have sporadic bouts of not pushing myself very hard (you might call it bouts of laziness, and you probably wouldn't be wrong). I just mostly don't fuss so much about my shape. I am what I am, how I am, when I am (oh fluctuation, how you toy with the fit of my jeans), where I am, etc. Now, suddenly, even when I'm not wearing the blasted puffy vest, I can't pass a mirror without thinking, "Jeez, DO my arms look fatter than normal?" or "Is my waist wider than it was a couple of weeks ago?"

The answer is no. I know this because I've been measuring myself with a tape measure (scales are an instrument of the devil, and should be avoided accordingly) regularly for the last five years. I stay within an inch or so. Hmm....

Alright then. Part of me thinks, "Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead." I love my vests, and who cares if I look oddly plump around the midsection when I wear them! But... maybe I care. And then again, maybe I don't.