36-28-26 (ps 37 1/2)

I'm feeling a bit out of proportion. For multiple reasons.

See, I think I got  - um -  shod from my last job because I wasn't cute enough or . . . thin enough. Or young enough. That may be a heavy charge to level, but based on what I was told after a month's worth of awesome work - who climbs a ladder to the fourth level to reach the most schmancy, expensive liquors and gets asked out four (five?) times by a customer if she has a fat ass? Who averages a 22-25% tip score between cash and card (measured on every check out slip so that isn't just me guesstimating it) if she's not good at her job - and gets canned after her three week bar tenure? I am calling BS.

The title to this post: my approximate measurements. Based on, yes, bra size (36D), ('spensive) jean size (27-28) and hip size (guesstimating here because my hips are smaller than my waist these days, which does bug me). Oh, and my age.

Me, last fall (too skinny, though I liked it) -

Stress non-eating phase . . .



This was me, last November with my Lucas Dog -

And just before moving to Chattavegas (apparently, that name has more import than I thought when I copped it from my first and dearest childhood friend as a silly joke) -

Forget him (I did) - the point here is how I look.

Getting ready for a date night (sorry for the selfie, y'all but it makes a point here)

(btw, these were actually 26's so I am moving "up" from there)

And this is me, today (literally) -

Pretty hairs, pretty girl - right??

So, you can't see the rest of me, but hopefully you'll run with what I am saying based on my face. (I'd show you a pic of the rest if someone had taken one...)

Fired for not being cute enough or thin enough? Hell, the old part - well, I'm not 22. I'm 37. But the rest of it?

I have struggled with body, food, image, whatever you want to call it for so many years.

I have discovered that while the restaurant world was an unintentional, unexpected and sometimes. . . un-fun (who wants to wait on, whether bartender or server, the parents of your friends from Westminster, deb balls, college . . .in your 30s . . .) - I am really good at it! My personality, my charm - my ability to read people (trust me, I know when she wants the dressing on the side or has 12 more questions about how something is prepared, and he wants his Woodford on the rocks or . . .) and I am good at what I do, right now. Really good at it.

But one thing I have worked on is looking at myself through someone else's mirror - because I still can't completely trust my own. My stomach is not as flat as I would like - but I wear a jean size that is smaller than so many women, so logically I cannot be fat. My legs are proportionate to my body, but long and lean - can I pass the "thigh" test like my crazy-skinny-body-mind wants? Not really, but they are small enough. Do I still think (big) boobs make me fat? Yeah, kinda. These are my issues.

When they enter the workplace - and they cost me a job at which I am damn good - I say NO.

A woman of 37, whom you hired, who is pretty, way more than capable, fit and more than physically acceptable . . . well, here is what I say:

Your loss.

Not mine.

And I find another place, that welcomes me - as I did the very next day. Will I have a bigger stomach than I'd like when I first start? Yep, but that's my issue - not yours. Will I do a fantastic job for you?

You bet your ass off I will.

Come see me in Chattavegas and see what you think for yourself.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal