Amour Abroad

I’ve been struggling with my weight loss journey lately. It’s nothing serious; I just haven’t felt great about where I’m at. Oftentimes I don’t see the progress of two years; I only see what I haven’t lost yet.

It’s normal, I’m sure. Lots of people on their journey have had moments where they felt like they couldn’t reach their finish line. It’s part of the process. And I’ve been telling myself that my family and friends love me just the way I am, which is good enough.

But if I’m being honest… sometimes I feel like it’s not. Since it’s my body that I have to live in, I want to be proud of it.  So I’m making some changes, but not to my diet or exercise. Just my closet.

How it Started

When I began my weight loss journey, I had developed a picture in my mind of the person I wanted to be, and left behind my desires to meet outside standards.

I thought about Kayla, who she was and what she stood for, and I always saw a woman that was… 35? 40 pounds lighter than me? Same body, same proportions, just fat taken off the arms and stomach and neck and face, and thighs that weren’t so thick.

She was a graceful person, full of confidence and kindness. And she had all the same mannerisms as me, the same voice and smile… she just looked like someone who took care of herself.  

I’ve noticed that lately, when I put on clothes, my desire to look like her – healthy and well-cared for – is much stronger. So much stronger that this summer I threw out nearly every item that didn’t fit her description. Everything from work clothes to pajamas needed to make me feel calm and feminine.

Even when I don’t plan on leaving the house, I still find myself doing my hair and putting on a pair of earrings. So, I took a moment recently to ask myself why I was doing what I was doing. And I realized… that I’ve been that version of myself before. All it took was the right dress.

In February of 2022 while I was attending graduate school in Barcelona, a friend of mine invited me to his birthday dinner at a beautiful restaurant. Located on the roof of a renovated industrial building, 1881 per Sagardi looks over some of the most famous parts of the city: Barceloneta, the Port of Barcelona, and El Born.

Off to the West you can see the W Hotel glittering, a massive blue and purple sail invoking comparisons to the Burj Al Arab. To the North, the Templo del Sagrado Corazón glows atop of Mount Tibidabo.

With such beautiful views, the atmosphere certainly has to match. Businessmen and families can be seen streaming in and out of the building in the evening, dressed in well-tailored shirts and sleek gowns. The sounds of laughter float down to the streets against clinking wine glasses and soft music. Clearly, my friend had good taste in restaurants.

What a nice restaurant… do I have something to wear to that? What will everyone else wear? I mused on the thoughts every time I passed by. It wasn’t that important, I would tell myself – it was a birthday dinner after all, the only thing that mattered was the person we were celebrating.

But for some reason, I was thrilled at the thought of getting ready. It filled me up with a girlish excitement.

As the days passed, I would walk down the street to visit the 5 (yes 5) Zara’s in my area. Every few days a new section of clothing would appear in one of the stores, so every few days I would visit to find the right outfit. The idea of one particular item kept crossing my mind: a simple, brown, long-sleeved midi dress.

The morning of the dinner came in a flash, and I didn’t have anything to wear. My roommates talked excitedly about their planned outfits while I searched my closet for a backup, wondering why I hadn’t spotted the dress. I was so sure it existed. It wasn’t out of season, right?

Thoughts started creeping into my mind as I began to worry. It was just a dress. It was just a dinner outfit. Today wasn’t my birthday, so I shouldn’t be so invested in my appearance. One by one they passed by until I was sure that I had been acting conceited and immature.

I decided to go for a quick stroll to clear my head. While I walked, I silently chanted a mantra that my choice of clothing didn’t make me any more or less worthy of self-love. I took deep breaths, emptied my mind, and focused on the ever-present smell of coffee and fresh bread in the air.

By the time I was ready to return, I was filled with gratitude for simply being able to go to a nice dinner and chose to let go of my search. I turned around, prepared to head back to my apartment.

And found myself in front of another Zara.

You know how they say the moment you let go of your manifestations is the moment they appear? Well, I can confirm. I thought I was crazy at first. Kayla, you went for a walk to clear your head. Looking for the dress is the opposite of clearing your head. I had no idea how I ended up there – I had just planned on going one or two blocks. I certainly hadn’t been thinking about shopping.

But I figured since I was already there it wouldn’t hurt to have a peek inside, just in case something new had shown up.

Lo and behold.

As I walked into the store, I felt something drawing me over to the escalator. My feet followed each other as my eyes scanned the racks, wondering if it maybe there was something there for me. I rounded the corner. My feet came to a stop.

There on the wall in front of me was a dark brown dress with one long sleeve, hanging down to my calves. A crew neckline, fitted and stretchy with no adornments. The exact dress I was looking for. I didn’t even try it on. I picked up my size and marched over to the self-checkout, paid, and sped home.

The Power of a Dress

My mind was wandered as I headed down the street. Was this how manifestation worked? Was the universe saying it was okay to be excited about dressing up? Should I have tried it on? My heart leapt with excitement as I walked into my building.

As soon as I entered the apartment I stepped into the dress and showed my roommates, who met me with excitement. It was perfect for me, they exclaimed, and couldn’t wait to see the finished look!

Spurred by their enthusiasm I rushed into the bathroom to start my hair and makeup: a slicked-back ponytail with swooping baby hairs, natural foundation and concealer with deep brown on the eyelids, hints of orange beneath the brow line, nude glossed lips, and dangling amber earrings.

After an hour I stepped back from the mirror in shock. There was someone looking back at me, but I didn’t recognize her. She looked like me to be sure, but there was something very different about her.

She seemed… I seemed… comfortable. Relaxed. Like the dress on my body and makeup on my face suited me. Like I felt good about how I looked.

It was strange. Foreign, even. Since high school I could only remember feeling that something in my appearance was lacking: a too big body and too small clothes, with a too big face that makeup couldn’t hide.

But as my roommates expressed their approval, I could only notice the ease I felt. How it didn’t occur to me to cross-check outfits with our friends, how I hadn’t thought about how my stomach would look after I finished eating. It was like freedom. Like peace.

The night passed by in a blur. We rode down to the lobby in an elevator with a large mirror, where I watched myself in awe. As we settled into a taxi, I noticed an urge to cross my legs. While walking up to the building I felt a difference in my steps.

The food was wonderful of course – an incredible selection Mediterranean style food paired with excellent Spanish wines. We drank and laughed and took pictures, celebrating our friend more with each glass.

It was an almost out of body experience as I watched myself enjoy our time together. And I couldn’t help but notice the way I felt as I walked out of that very fine, very elegant restaurant – as though I belonged there.

When we got home, I looked back at my recordings of the night. The videos showed me in a way I was sure I had never seen myself before: happy, comfortable, and relaxed. It was the first time that I could remember being completely present at an event – all my focus on the people around me.

I didn’t recall a part in the night when I worried what other people could be thinking. That, I realized, was the power of feeling good in my skin. That was confidence.

Reflections on The Bedroom Floor

During the start of my weight loss journey, I made a daily habit of listing out the reasons I desired to lose fat. I wanted to see a certain person when I looked in the mirror, fit into certain types of clothes, be able to participate in certain activities, and so on. But the first of those reasons, always the first of those reasons was confidence. I wanted to feel confident in myself.

Now, what did I mean? I wanted to possess an inner forcefield that could change my life experience, or unlock a superpower that would help me conquer the world. I didn’t know what to visualize – I couldn’t explain something I had never experienced. I just knew I wanted it.

Sitting in my room I came to realize what that word meant to me. Put simply, it was the absence of worry. Confidence in my appearance meant that I didn’t feel worried about what others could think when they saw me.

Confidence in my skills meant that I didn’t worry about my ability to do something. Confidence in myself meant I had no worries about how I made decisions. It was the complete absence of negative thoughts, paired with the acceptance, the enjoyment of what was.

Over time I found myself craving that feeling. Peace of mind had nearly the same effect on me as drinking caffeine or eating chocolate: it felt positive and uplifting, and when it went away, I wanted it back.

In fact, the “wanting it” part never truly went away, so every decision since my dress-induced revelation has stemmed from that desire. When I do my hair, or get dressed, or buy food, or go to an event, my question to myself is always:

Does this thing create an absence of worry in me?

It’s as simple as yes or no. And more and more often, my answers have been yes, yes it does.

Cleaning out my closet has been a great experiment. There are far fewer options in my closet, but the ones that are there are only the kind that make me feel good. And the better I feel about myself, the better I focus on my workouts, the type of food that I eat, and how I spend my time.

In fact, I’d say it’s been even more helpful than my previous routine of motivational videos and sticky-note affirmations.

Despite my current challenges, I feel myself getting closer to that picture in my head. What helps me the most is my belief that if I continue looking for peace inside, one day I’ll wake up and realize that I’ve become that person.

So, in the spirit of the start of autumn, I made a promise to myself to only buy things that make me feel at peace – even if it means I only have 3 outfits to choose from.

My hope is that after a while, worry will feel like a strange illness, as foreign to me as confidence once was, and that when I look in the mirror, I won’t see how far I have to go, but how far I’ve already come.