Beg, Borrow, Steal

Always having been the larger or largest person in any given group of people, I never took part in traditional lending, borrowing or swapping of clothing articles. Anyone would drown in my clothes. And me fit in their clothes? Uh, no.

But yesterday, a delightful pixie-like co-worker asked if she could try on the sweater I was wearing. My first response was "It's way too big!". Her reply: "No it's not. Let me try it on."

For the past many months I've had people tell me constantly how different I look, how good I look, how skinny I'm getting, blah, blah, blah. Within the last month the refrain has changed to "how much more are you going to lose" or "you're not going to lose anymore, are you?"

So hearing people express their thoughts on my shrinking girth is nothing new. But being taken into the normal girl's club is. No one has ever asked if they could try on my clothes. No one with exceptional style, like this co-worker, has ever hinted that they'd even consider trying on my clothes.

I feel like I learned the secret passcode that gets me lifetime admittance to the tree house. People's perceptions of me have shifted. And I've become less leary of those perceptions, more trusting. A few months ago I would have felt like I was getting set up for a nasty joke. Today, I feel like I've achieved coolness status that makes me untouchable.

I let her try on my sweater. And it was too big, just as I had thought. Then again, it's too big for me, too.