When it just doesn’t fit…the requirements

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.