It was in the summer during a visit to Greenwich, Connecticut. I decided to take a walk on the main drag, Greenwich Avenue. It was a posh street full of swanky little shops. There was this fancy, fussy boutique there, so I went in and meandered up a fabulous staircase to the dress section. I thought, I’m going to buy myself a nice dress for an upcoming wedding.
Immediately four saleswomen started throwing pricey designer dresses at me. I’d always been decently shaped so I figured I could try on most of those dresses and look okay. That is, until I looked at myself in the dressing room’s six three-way mirrors. I was, like, “Who is this?”and “When did this happen?”. My arms were flabby, my stomach was sticking out, my butt was drooping, and my posture was shot. I’d been carrying around those extra pounds I wanted to lose for years, and never did.
You know those pounds. The nagging ones that seem to stay there until you really decide you’re going to get rid of ‘em? I’d kind of fallen off the wagon, gotten a little lazy, and it showed. I tried on several dresses but there was only one that was “Wow!”. And it was the only one that was little and black. It was very modern. Clean lines. A lanky, lean, long dress. There was a flounce at the bottom, so when you moved it had some flair. It was stunning and comfy, which is a really hard combo.
But it didn’t fit me. The dress was like an unforgiving second skin. There was no way I could have this stomach in that Little Black Dress.
Unfortunately, that Little Black Dress was the only one they had. If they’d had a bigger size, I’d have bought it. But I’m glad they didn’t. Because something in me clicked and I heard myself tell the saleslady,
“I’ll take it.”
And she goes, ‘Are you sure, dear?’ I said, “I’m sure. I have three months to get into it.” She looked at me, like, Good luck with that !
Then this saleslady tried to talk me into buying a bunch of accessories. Some dangly earrings and a fancy necklace. A wrap. Some matching shoes and a purse. Yikes!
But I knew I didn’t need to buy anything else. “No,” I said. “The dress is enough.” Me and this Little Black Dress, we’re enough. So, I took my Little Black Dress home, knowing I had ninety days to get in shape. But boy, those pounds were tough! I would drop a couple, and plateau for a while. Then another pound would go, only to mysteriously reappear. Sometimes I wondered if I would really win the battle. But just as I was able to tell that saleslady no when she tried to sell me those accessories, I told my fat No!. I refused to capitulate. Refused. The fat was not going to win. No way.
That’s when I realized I could simply -‘Train my Brain’. I just had to program it correctly. But it took every bit of those three long months to become an effective teacher! I ‘d never have gotten into my Little Black Dress any other way.
So I went to that wedding a lot trimmer and feeling fabulous. I was coming down in the elevator to attend the reception when this lady next to me says, “My dear, you look stunning!” It was such a nice compliment. I thought, Wow, this dress is really working out.
That Little Black Dress showed me the Way. It was worth all of the effort it took to get into it. And what’s more, it made me realize that my attitude had changed along with my body. What I didn’t realize at the time was how life-changing the decision to buy that Little Black Dress would be. It went way past losing weight to get into a pretty dress. It set off such a feeling of empowerment that I not only looked different, I began to act different. Confident. In control of my life.
My best friend noticed the change in me, and -not wanting to be left in the dust- decided to slip into The Little Black Dress Way of Living, too! We decided then and there to focus in on all of the parts of our lives that needed slimming and simplification. Together, we began with Living Lean. Which lead to: Living with Less. Living in Love. And finally, The Little Black Dress Way of Living -Life!
So go ahead and try your own Little Black Dress on for size. And get ready to change your life, too.