Finding the perfect dress in an imperfect world

Yesterday was a downer. Not the kind of day that ends on a little sad note and it’s all okay the next day when you wake. A proper downer, the kind that calls for tears and comfort food.

I’m going to a wedding this weekend, and as a typical girl, I’ve decided that I want a new dress to wear. I have plenty of dresses, but I need something formal, something that makes me look as delicious as strawberry ice-cream and something that fits. The last formal dress I bought was in 2008. Let’s face facts here people, styles have changed.

Curves have always been on me. Genetically, I am programmed to have pretty significant hips in comparison to my frame. Sadly, this does not sit well with the world of fashion who has decided that all dresses in 2014 must be tiny and basically just make me look like I’m trying to compete with Nicki Minaj. For those of you who don’t know me, this is just not me.

I was in Durban this past weekend to help my sister begin her hunt for a wedding dress (ha!), and I decided I’d look for something for the wedding yesterday while at Gateway. What a joke! I tried on about 15 different dresses across 6 or 7 stores and they all looked terrible. Zara came the closest in a style that was relatively flattering, but everywhere else was touting styles that only look good on a stick insect.

Now please don’t misunderstand, I’m actually generally quite happy with my figure. I’ve been a little slack with my running lately (ok, a lot slack), but I’m still pretty much the same weight and confident about how I look. After yesterday though, I basically feel like the heffalump who was left in the rain and got all swollen in weird places.

Pray, tell me ladies, am I the only person who feels like this about dresses? Why must we wear these tiny things that only make us feel uncomfortable, or are so tight that they’re exhausting just to get on.

The hardest part of this all is that I’m beating myself up about this. I know it’s irrational, but I feel like I haven’t worked hard enough to be thinner, or toned up enough to like my legs more. How on earth did we get to a point where a simple piece of fabric has this much power over my self esteem?