Dull and Dreary

Apparently, I'm dreary.

I was informed of this at work today. A lady that I know reasonably well came up and we had the traditional conversation about how well I'm doing, and how much weight I've lost and how she knows someone who could definitely benefit from the same program and can I give her the number (I really think Howard's Way should be paying me for my advertising services, every pound I shed seems to get them another member!)

Anyway, we went through all that, and at the end she casually mentioned that I should go and get some nice, bright colourful clothes to draw a bit of attention to myself. She walked off and I was left looking down at my clothing, slightly perplexed about what she meant. I'm not the kind of person to draw attention to myself much, but surely I dressed the same as everyone else?

Grey shirt, Black skirt, Black tights and black shoes. Topped off with a black coat and scarf. Not about to dazzle anyone. Then I looked around me at the other people in the room. A riot of colours glared back at me, each one screaming for my attention. Greens, Purples, Reds, Yellows, Oranges... and do you know what? I don't have a single one of those colours in my entire wardrobe.

I really don't. I got home and tore everything out and laid it on my bed, and sorted it in to colours. I had four. Black, Grey, Brown and Navy. Four piles. Four choices. None of them exactly eye catching. And I've honestly never really noticed this before!

And all of these girls in my office, the ones who keep getting promoted and getting asked out and who generally seem to have it together so much more than I do, I'm willing to bet that they all have more than four colour choices in their wardrobes.

So I'm going shopping now, and I'm going to be bold and I'm going to be brave and I'm going to at least double my options. I still don't have a body that I'm proud of or want to draw attention to, and I'm only half way through my diet so still have lots to lose (so it's probably a complete waste of money), but I'm sick of being dreary. I'm sick of being passed by. I'm sick of not being worth looking at.

I know that the clothes I've chosen have been almost entirely dictated by my insecurities about my weight, but none of the other girls in my office have perfect bodies (far from it) and that doesn't seem to stop them being bright and confident. My turn.