I looked at the dress every time it popped up on my Facebook feed. Nothing shocking; no high slit, no crazy cinched waist or plunging neckline, definitely not Met Gala-worthy. But it was beautiful in its simplicity. A gorgeous navy leather bodice with a drop waist and soft navy chiffon flowing out from the bottom like water in a fancy fountain. The dress had been appearing on my feed for at least six months. Facebook advertisements have me pegged! I had been looking at the dress but had never pulled the trigger, because I do not believe I deserve nice clothes unless my body is perfect. Until I lose 50 pounds, I can’t have nice things.

The Dress was perfect for an upcoming family wedding. My entire family. A bride, groom, and wedding party that look like they stepped out of Town & Country magazine. The dress was intended to be a reward for myself for the hard work I had been putting in to improve my health.

I have been back in a good workout routine and in a decent headspace for about 6 months. Swimming, lifting weights, and balancing an incredible amount at work. I am proud of how far I have come and buying the dress would say I really meant this. It was a still a size Large, but would look fabulous with the Manolo Blahnik shoes I bought (used of course).

In my mind, I should look like the young people in the wedding party. But I have more than 20 years of life, two kids, and decades of marriage on all of them! I am not sure where I fit in. I am no longer newly married or a young mom with little kids. I no longer spend hours and hours in the car with my high-school aged kiddos anymore. My younger cousins now live in that chaos while my kids are almost grown and increasingly living independent lives. I am starting to feel like the plump, eccentric woman who is a little bossy and wants to take care of everyone. And I DO NOT want to become that.

I should have walked into the wedding feeling good about myself for the first time in a while. But, there I was, walking into the church later than I wanted to arrive (but still before the bride, thank goodness) with a hole in my stockings slowly creeping up from the most amazing shoes, and a shawl over my back and shoulders.

I would normally wear the shawl in the church and remove it later, but on this occasion the shawl was staying firmly attached to my shoulders. Much to my dismay, the amazing dress that I, of course, had not tried on before today was only zipped to just below my shoulder blades. The zipper was about two inches short of closed and I was without my husband or kids there to help me (those independent lives). In the end, I did not have time to fight with it any longer before rushing out the door. Why had I not allowed more time to get ready? Why had I not tried on the dress before the day I needed to wear it? Why had it not occurred to me that a LARGE might be a tight fit? Or maybe, all those things did cross my mind and I was simply scared to find out.

I sat down with our family in the third pew, next to my mother and her boyfriend. The wedding was beautiful. It was wonderful to see my cousin marry his perfect love. I could not have been happier for them as they entered into the biggest adventure of their lives with such a wonderful family around them for support. Those are all things worth celebrating.

As we took family photos in the church, I found myself wishing I could both honor my family and skip the reception. I wished I wasn’t flying solo for this wedding. As soon as the wedding party boarded their bus to leave the beautiful stone church, I made my way to the tiny bathroom in the church’s basement. When my attempts to pull the zipper up failed, I decided to take the entire dress off, make sure all the layers were straight and correctly aligned and then put it all back on again. So — there I was — naked in the tiny, church bathroom praying no one would walk in. After a lot of embarrassing pulling and tugging, and SO MUCH SWEATING, the dress would not give an inch and the zipper still would not close all the way. I eventually gave up and headed to the car to blast the air conditioning and re-apply the make-up that had run down my face. Why had I not just worn something different?

My mother was already texting me. She asked where I had been and, against my better judgment, I told her the issue. At five-foot, two inches tall and probably under 100 pounds, my mom looks beautiful in everything. But she was convinced she could make my dress work. I got to the reception, found a restroom, and we fought with the dress together for another 20 minutes. I was like a busted can of biscuits and there was no fixing it! I put the shawl back on and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening.

In the time since that wedding day, I have given it a lot of thought and decided that I have a problem. I don’t know if it is ego, or narcissism, but I know I need to learn how to age more gracefully. That doesn’t mean I should accept the middle-age weight gain or loss of fitness and health that I am fighting. But I cannot “take to the bed” and miss out on these years just because I’m getting old. I need to learn to give myself some grace so that i can celebrate the wonderful things about this stage of my life. I may no longer be an athletic 20-year-old, but I have wonderful kids who are becoming successful adults, a happy marriage, good friends and a loving home. I am proud of my career where I am an experienced force for good, and I also have some time now to explore my own passions. I do not know how to lean-in to this stage of my life, but I am determined to figure it out. The dress be damned!