The 'One Day' Dress

A month or so ago a 'motivational' photograph was posted on Facebook. "Every woman has a pair of 'they will fit me one day' jeans". I smirked; it wasn't so long ago that maybe I'd have been consumed by that kind of mindset. Obsessing over the notion that "things will get better IF I lose weight", that seems to over-arch the common experience of adulthood. How sad, I thought, to delay happiness because of the size of your clothing, and how well your body fills material based on the number on the label.

And then it hit me. I've still got my 'one day' dress. 

It was 2012 and I was in a charity shop in Kingston, Milton Keynes. Jay found a suit jacket in his size and was really pleased; it was almost brand new and super cheap. I spotted a gorgeous cream dress with a floral pattern on it, and an adorable heart-shaped cut-out over the cleavage area. My eyes were drawn instantly and I needed to have it. Unfortunately, when I grabbed the tag, I saw 'size 18' slapping me across the face. "No matter", thought 21-year-old Sophie. "I'll fit into it one day".

A screenshot from my instagram in 2012. Seeing my own words, and my own insecurities thrown out there for all to see in an attempt at justifying my own body, makes me so sad. Why shouldn't I have "rewarded" myself for the beautiful body I was in, instead of punishing it? My body is capable of brilliant things: in fact, at that very moment there were cells dividing without my knowledge, beginning the wonderful adventure that I now call Moo.

Because that's what I did. I dieted, I got depressed, I binged, I put on weight, I got depressed, and then the cycle began again. But each time was the last time. Every time, I started with a heart full of hope because all of my problems would go away if there was less weight on my body. How could I be sad when I was confident? Who could help but respect me if my stomach was flat? What would I have to worry about if I was fit and healthy? I could go shopping with friends and family without spiralling into depression because all of my attention was focussed on how nothing would fit me. In my mind, if my stomach didn't hang, I could conquer the world.

Anxiety doesn't work like that, and neither does depression. People don't work like that - they don't automatically decide somebody must be a bad person because they weigh more than them - and if they do, they're not people I want to know. I am happier and more confident than I've ever been; I have modelled for a plus size brand (and would be happy to do so again), I take more pride in my appearance than ever [unless I'm at  University. University would be lucky if I washed, let alone brushed my hair or even put some make-up on], I'm super happy to take outfit photos and promote my fat body in all its glory, and I have a solid group of friends who promote body positivity at any size. And so, just like that, I decided to get rid of the 'one day' dress.

I didn't make a fortune; it sold on eBay for about £1.50 plus postage. But it wasn't about the money I could gain, it was about my mental health. This was the last step in accepting that I am who I am and every body, at every size, deserves love and respect. And actually I would encourage anybody who is punishing themselves for being who they are to challenge their mindsets. If not now, then when?