Trapped in a Bad 80's Prom Dress

In the spring of 1987, I was a senior in high school living in the western suburbs of Chicago.  Senior prom was quickly approaching. Senior Prom.  Those two words in and of themselves invoked a certain sense of insecurity deep in my psyche.  My track record of being asked to dances in high school was perfect.  A perfect zero that is.  Growing up the nerdy fat girl seemed to put a damper on such things, nonetheless, at the time I was being told from multiple sources I would regret it if I didn't go.  Ultimately, I would be set up with a friend of a friend who went to a different school. With that taken care of, it was full on 80's prom mode.

I think the thing the girls of today in their sleek skimpy gowns do not understand is that back then, we were all about the poof.  The "Gone With the Wind" style of gigantic gown that required multiple layers of crinoline skirts underneath to make you as wide as the door from the waist down.  We dyed our shoes to perfectly match and found a way to make our hair as wide and overdone as our dresses.  I will never forget mine.  It was a floor length white gown with a fitted bodice, that required a tight corset with metal stays to hold me together (side note, God bless the good people of Spanx) and gigantic poofy sleeves.   Oh yes.  I was ready for prom 1987 style.

The evening would go as you would imagine for a blind date for a couple of 17 year olds.  My dress was so big, it was awkward in the car, and I am still not sure how I got through the revolving door at The Ambassador East Hotel on North State where The Pump Room would serve us our dinner.  We would go on to the dance and do what any 17 year old does on a blind date.  Have a series of awkward dances with a stranger I didn't really have anything in common with and multiple trips to the bathroom with my best friend to gossip about the cool girls we never really fit in with.  The night would end with an awkward hug and a little peck that landed somewhere between my lips and my cheek from a person I would never hear from again.  To be fair, I do not even recall his name.

As I went in the house that night, it was time to get out of this marshmallow mess that somehow seemed the height of fashion at the time.  That's when the real struggle began.  The invisible zipper. The zipper hidden on the side of the dress that had a layer of fabric over it  that had to be moved to get at the damn thing.  Unzipping, I found the zipper got caught on said fabric at every millimeter.  I could not get it down, I was trapped in the damn dress at 1:00 in the morning.  At that point the corset was poking me.  I was tired and frustrated from an awkward evening, and just wanted to be out of the damn thing. I finally had to wake my mom up who somehow had some magical method to undo it all in the blink of an eye and find the me that existed under all of that.

I had occasion to think about the tragic prom dress trapping of 1987 this week.  On Thanksgiving Day a client of mine and I braved the 8 degree cold to take on the Troy Turkey Trot.  We ran the 10k first and the 5k second.  This special shark has lost well over 100 pounds, and has come so far since her first 5k in June.  We ran the same pace for a change, prior to now, I would either run my own race, albeit a little quicker than her, or stay back to keep her moving.  There was none of that on Thursday, as we ran the same.  Much to my surprise this baby shark would even take off a block from the finish completely smoking me at the end.  This, at the time, was my proudest Mama Shark moment to date.  She had beaten her own demons and come out to smoke her mentor. I rested on the  satisfaction I experienced with that until it happened.  Race pictures.  Race pictures happened.  My earlier pride paled in comparison to this single photo.  It was taken 5.75 miles in.  Here we were stepping together with a look on her face of an unmatched freedom I have never seen in her before.  That expression right there trumped any pride I had in her beating me.

People ask me sometimes what it is like to spend decades of life fighting the demons of obesity.  Well, its kinda like being trapped in a God awful 80's prom dress that you have no idea how to get out of .  You wear this uncomfortable monstrosity everywhere you go for all to see, regardless of the venue, changes in season or fashion.  You are acutely aware of others' opinions of said horrific dress , and wish only to get out of the damn thing and feel like a normal human.  Yet what should be so easy, a zipper, somehow won't budge.  The harder the struggle over it, the more uncomfortable the whole thing becomes.  Over time you come to learn, at least if you are fortunate enough, that there is simply no real escape until someone else can quietly come to your rescue in the wee  hours and teach you how to work the invisible zipper for yourself.  When you are finally able to start to do that, the tight corset of obesity lets loose and you are left with the real person under the crinoline, and a carefree freedom that anything is possible with the right amount of support and tricks of the trade.

I guess that brings me back to the original statement.  Given that it was an awkward blind date, in a dress I could not get out of, did I actually end up regretting my senior prom? Well, I guess I could answer that with asking the same question about being obese.  Do I regret my multi decade long battle with obesity?  Looking back I would have to say no to both.  Both things made me the person I am today.  I have the privilege of taking these experiences and using them to help people emerge from the prisons of their own ugly dresses and learn to embrace the amazing person underneath. That makes any struggle worth enduring and reminds me every single day the best is yet to come. 

These are Days

Well here it is, it's my birthday.  Forty-nine.  Damn that's a big number.  It's close to 50, a half a century.  It's the time in life they start to use the phrase,"middle aged."  God, that's terrible.  I was pondering all of this as I drove to work and feeling myself slip into the funk that goes with such thoughts.  My mom was not here to sing to me this year like she used to, which in and of itself was grief inducing.  Adding insult to injury, I get the extreme pleasure of a ten hour beat down in a busy ER on my birthday.  I suppose I could request it off, but I guess I don't see the point of that either.  The kids are at school all day, I would just end up doing mundane household chores and somehow scrubbing toilets for my birthday was less appealing than the belligerent drunk in the hallway I was sure to cross paths with.

As I was in full on pity party mode, lost in my own thoughts, Natalie Merchant would come to my rescue.  I am admittedly a self proclaimed child of the 80's, a Ten Thousand Maniacs fan from way back. “These are Days” would change my mental gears into a silent reflection over the events of recent days. 

These are days you'll remember

Never before and never since

I promise

I spent the weekend hosting a wide variety of events, after months of planning, for my sharks of 1DOS.  Admittedly, Friday I was a bit like a crazed maniac as I ran last minute errands, stressed over people being aware of the schedule of events, coordinating out of towners, playing hostess to the opening lunch I was late for due to a T Shirt snafu at the printers, thing to thing I would go until I finally found myself on a treadmill between two clients in an afternoon workout at Orangetheory.  Grateful for the stress reducer, I was finally able to cut loose some and begin to enjoy the day.  To my left was a shark who has struggled with weight, and is now finally trying to make the transition from walking to running.  I was able to give some pointers as this is a transition I know all too well.  After the last successful running block I saw the look of astonishment when my shark outs with,"I guess I can be a runner."  That A-HA moment, similar to the one I had two years ago, that reminds me every single day why I do what I do.  Not a moment I will soon forget.

Will the whole world be warm as this

and as you feel it

You'll know it's true

That you are blessed and lucky

It's true that you 

Are touched by something

From the gym we would make a quick turn around to a local Brewing Company for dinner with more Sharks.  Twenty people would turn out to raise a glass and share a lot of laughs.  A team of my trainers would come to support us, although I'm pretty sure they didn't recognize most of us out of sweaty work out gear and under lighting that was not orange.  I would find myself sitting back and just observing as people from different areas of my life became one under the umbrella of 1DOS forming common bonds as we learn to get through this thing called a healthy lifestyle journey as one mighty shiver.  I would hear the laughter, and see the formation of inside jokes, with a whole lot of good natured teasing.  In that moment, I truly knew I was touched by something and blessed to call these people friends.  

These are days you'll remember

When May is rushing over you with desire

To be part of the miracles you see in every hour

You'll know its true that you are blessed and lucky

It's true that you 

Are touched by something

That will grow and bloom in you

Saturday brought with it my favorite Spartan Race, the Fenway Sprint.  This was my first Spartan two years ago, so it is near and dear to my heart.  This year we were a mighty team of 12 with 8 newbies all learning to conquer their own fears.  There was a moment when our oldest racer would fall off the rings rolling her ankle.  She would simply strap some ice to it, push on and finish.  Nothing was going to stop her. She would later find out she had a fracture.  Her grit alone was awe inspiring.  Another team mate would walk away from the A frame and try to do burpees.  After I chatted with her she decided not doing the obstacle would make her angry with herself for a long time to come.  Three of us escorted her back to it.  Unbeknownst to us, she silently cried out of the fear she had as she got on the net.  We talked her up the net one step at a time to the top.  Reaching the top, the sun would hit her face, her favorite song would come on and she would scream,"Oh my God, I love this song".  She would sing the whole way down and shed the happy tears that she did not let her own mind stop her.  As we crossed the finish, a mighty shiver, many tears were shed by our newbies, well truth be told, me too, and once again, I knew this was what life was meant to be, growing out of comfort zones and investing directly in your own abilities to find a happiness that before those moments did not exist.

These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break

These days you might feel a shaft of limelight 

Make its way across your face

And when you do you'll know how it was meant to be

See the signs and know their meaning

It's true

Sunday would bring with it a different team of racers taking on their first 15k, shattering their own perceptions of their capabilities and all finishing.  However, my favorite moment came when the formerly timid shark terrified of her first real 5k in June, not only took on the Spartan on Saturday, but the 15k where she ran the entire race without stopping.  One hundred and twelve pounds down, running 9.5 miles at a stretch and crossing the finish with the biggest smile I have ever seen.  My congratulations would be cut short as an old college friend of hers would approach her to tell her how amazed she was at her journey and how she had been following along for the 13 months she has been on the road to good health.  Watching her reaction as she had her own shaft of limelight in that moment reminded me again what my own why was.  

So, I guess it is safe to say that my pity party at being nearly half a century old has ended courtesy of Natalie Merchant and a mighty Shiver of 312 Sharks that continue to amaze me every single day.  As I look to the year ahead, there are a lot of new goals to be had and I absolutely know that even at middle age.....the best is yet to come.