Sized Up

Today I realized that sometimes I am just hell-bent on feeling bad about myself.

This afternoon I went to press preview of an exercise clothing line. I rarely attend these kinds of events these days – they are more for stylists who would (the brand hopes) be seeing clothes they want to use for photo shoots, and for editors who want an excuse to get out of the office and (usually) get free stuff – but still feel from time to time I must take up the invitation just to keep my seat warm, so to speak.

In London, I can remember the first time I got sized up by a fashion PR and handed a bag with a size small in it – the thrill and validation I got from it. But at an event I went to a couple of months ago I got handed a top that was a medium and bottoms that were a large – accident? I felt even worse about myself a couple of weeks ago at a preview of a new exercise class that also involved a swimwear fashion show. I don't know what anyone else's bag contained, but mine had a scarf – did that mean they'd deemed me too fat for a bathing suit? Tonight I looked in the bag and fumbled with the tag on the top, my heart (seriously) jackhammering. It was a small.

Instead of feeling happy or relieved or anything positive, I immediately wondered (a) if it were a mistake, or (b) everyone received that size. (If I were crazy, I would Google if that brand does XS – actually, I know they do – and start obsessing about that.)

What am I talking about? I am crazy. But at least I know it – and sometimes, can even laugh about it.

Day 21.