Something amazing happens to a mother,
who, a short few months after delivering her baby, notices she is still able to
fit into all of her pre-pregnancy clothes: she gets cocky.
So
she brings out that tight-fitting cocktail dress she bought before she got
married and decides “Hey! I can work this satin and make it sparkle”.
Undoubtedly, the zipper gets stuck, and sure enough, the finger-pointing
begins:
- The
people at the dry cleaner’s must’ve over-washed it and shrunk it (though it
mysteriously remains the same length at the bottom).
- The
store must’ve moved the pins around and made the dress tighter than agreed upon
immediately after the purchase (though the pins strangely remain in their
assigned positions and do not appear to be misplaced).
- Better
yet, perhaps the size re-adjustment was correct, and no error occurred at the
dry cleaner’s but the dress simply, for reasons that defy logic or
justification, didn’t maintain its proper measurements because it’s been
resting in the closet for too long.
And so the
excuses go on, until all possible reasons are exhausted and validated except
for that one undeniably taboo, completely unlikely, and undyingly heretical
supposition that, *wait for it*, the person trying on the dress simply
no longer has the “required figure” to pull it off.
In case you
haven’t figured it out yet, that cocky, over-ambitious, scapegoat-hunter, happens
to be me. Or rather was me until I had a sudden and critical epiphany:
Why blame others for a problem that essentially, and unquestionably, I can only
hold myself responsible for? Once I allowed my ego to dissolve, little
by little, I was finally able to wrap my head around the possibility that
maybe, just maybe, I’m the reason that zipper won’t defy Einsteinian
and Newtonian hypotheses; maybe *I* simply don’t fit in that dress anymore. And
that’s okay.
And that’s when
my students immediately came to my mind.
So many times,
students of mine would complain that they’re so sure of their efforts, and as a
result, their essays cannot be considered anything less than A+ quality work.
This would continue to happen even when some of their papers would be presented
lacking proper research, citations, and professional formatting…I would often
encourage these students by telling them they’ve improved SO much since the
beginning of the semester. I would praise how far they’ve gotten and try to
make them feel incredibly proud of their A- work. But if there’s one thing
everyone knows about AUB students, it’s this: their “perfectionist” reputation
precedes them. They don’t want the A-, they want the A. In fact, they become so
desperately fixated on that complete score that if ever the grade they receive
happens to be just a smidge below an A, judgments would start flying through
the air:
- The
teacher hates me.
- The
teacher has a grudge against me because of that one time I came late to class.
- The
teacher doesn’t actually read our essays, but grades based on favoritism.
- Or
my personal favorite: I’m too “religious” and “ungay” for my “hippie
open-minded” teacher.
Strangely
enough, I get where the resentment and indignation come from. When you’ve been
working so hard at something knowing you’ve given it your best shot day in and
day out, you simply CANNOT accept the possibility that *you* have fallen
short -- if and when the results don’t turn out the way you expected them to.
And that’s when the blame-game begins.
I
used to be a gym-rat before my pregnancy and even after my delivery, I
continued to maintain a super healthy diet and exercise routine (as much as the
little man allowed me to, anyway). I’ve shed most of the pounds I put on, and
the fact that I can fit into all of my pre-pregnancy clothes is the perfect
testimony to that fact. However, even with that feat in mind, for whatever
reason, that cocktail dress still pulls tightly against my torso at the moment.
Perhaps there really was a problem with the tightening of the dress. Then
again, keeping in mind the efficient Occam Razor problem-solving principle that
states the simplest explanation is often the truest one: perhaps that simply implies
that even though I have indeed lost a lot of weight, I could still afford to
lose just a bit more.
The
effort is evident, but it’s not enough, and really, what’s so offensive about
that? It doesn’t mean I won’t ever fit into that dress again; it simply means I
need to practice and work more to make it happen.
It
may have taken a long lilac dress that’s a bit too snug on my waist now to
realize it but I finally get it: When in doubt, don’t blame the cake; blame the
baker*.
*then
eat the cake.
**then
burn it off during cardio.
***and
repeat.
