Everybody’s been through it—even if the last time was when you were a kid and grew out of something: everyone has tried on an article of clothing to find out that, well, look at that, it doesn’t fit anymore. Maybe you grew taller, dropped down a size, or got mad swole in your lats. Or maybe, like me, you’ve been packin’ on the pounds like a doomsday-prepper bear heading into hibernation.

I knew it was happening, but it was subtle enough that my jeans seemed to sufficiently embrace the extra me, hiding it away enough that I didn’t have to go up a size. My dresses also hid it relatively well (shout-out to all my A-lines for saving my ass . . . see what I did there?), though there are some dresses hanging in my closet that I haven’t worn in a while but that I can’t give up on quite yet. Then there’s this dress. I bought it without trying it on because it was close enough to my size and looked like it would fit. I never do this because I am ~shapes~, but it was on sale and we were trying to leave the outlets before they closed, so I took a risk. It was a little baggy, but the cinched-in waist did a good enough job of highlighting my figure and I was looking for something new to wear to a friend’s wedding. Maybe a year or two later, I wore it to a baby shower. Same fit. And then I tried it on about an hour ago.

The struggle was real. After hearing a few stitches pop, I decided I shouldn’t step into it and try to pull it up over my hips. Instead, I slipped it over my head and tried to wiggle it down into place. Good news is that I did get it on and zipped; bad news is that, with each step, the fabric snuck up little by little and bunched over my stomach. So this is a hard no for the rehearsal dinner I’d hoped to wear this to.

Still, I came downstairs in the too-tight dress and prompted Jon with, “Do you remember this dress?”

“Oh, I love that! You look so nice in that dress.” (Thank you, love. I know you meant it, and I love you for that.)

“No, do you remember it? It used to be too big. Now I can’t fit in it.”

“Was this a trick? Was I set up?”

“No, I’m just really upset.”

I’m sure some people would simply get rid of the dress and buy one that fits. Truthfully, I have gotten rid of certain clothes that no longer make me happy and replaced them with things that fit my body now and that I enjoy wearing. But this one stings more than the others. When I grabbed it off the hanger tonight, I anticipated it fitting perfectly because I remembered it having extra room before. So to have it stretching over my thighs and arse with no actual wiggle room quite frankly sucks. It’s a kick in the butt. It makes me mad. It reminds me that I can’t fiddle-fart around thinking that somehow I’ll magically get great abs and toned legs. And it’s one of the reasons I’m packing lots of workout clothes for this weekend’s destination wedding. Needless to say, I’m not giving up on this dress—it’s super cute and my cost per wear is not yet low enough to give it up (#HighSchoolEconomics). I’ll be back, pretty flower dress. Mark my words.