i pick up the wrap dresses (m)

Meghan calls me: "Your wrap dresses are in!"  She's breathless with excitement.  If you recall, I have explained to her that I will in no way be able to fit into these dresses for a good 18 months.  Nevertheless, she's treating this transaction with urgency.

First, I went to PT and then worked out with my trainer.  On the way back to my house, I stopped at the boutique to pick up the dresses.  I was wearing black Spandex bike shorts, sneakers, a long-sleeved v-neck tee shirt and a red windbreaker.  I did not fit the profile of one of the customers who frequents this type of establishment.

I walked in and a young woman behind the counter looks up and says, "Yes?" as if I were one of those bike messengers with a delivery package. 

I explain that I am "M" who ordered the wrap dresses. 

"Oh, you look EXCELLENT!" Meghan exclaims.

Think about it.  I am a perfect stranger to her.  We've only communicated via the phone.  She has never seen me in her life and all of a sudden, I look "excellent" to her. 

I think about how I described myself.  I was honest.  I did not embellish or exaggerate.  Still, she must have pictured some heinous beast for her to describe me, in my current state, as "excellent."

The store is lovely.  I can see why my friend shops there.  I bought a little trinket for someone and then left with my dresses. 

When I got home, I showered and changed into my slimming undergarments and tried the dresses on.

Not even close.  I would have to wear a tee-shirt under the wrap dress as the panel is about 6 inches from closing on the top.

I know this is not unexpected but I was secretly hoping the fit would have been a little closer.  It was a not so gentle reminder that, despite much progress, I am not quite halfway to my goal.

Excellent?  I think not.