What is it about a trip to the dressing room – be it to try on a swimsuit, a bra, a pair of jeans – that ignites such fear and trepidation in the heart of a woman?  Must it always be an experience we dread? I went downtown today to shop.  I needed two things: a dress for a party we’re going to and some new Spanx to wear under said dress.  I’ve been doing my Paleo diet now since the end of February and quite honestly, I’ve never felt better.  I’m sleeping so soundly I’m not hearing any children waking up in the middle of the night (which maybe is a good thing?), I haven’t had any dizzy spells since I’ve cut gluten and grains out of my diet (which I was having quite a bit before), I feel less bloated and more clear-headed – and yes, OF course – there’s the whole inches lost thing.  So you would think that I would be in a good self-esteem place right now, right?  Some new clothes, compliments from friends and my loving husband…I’ve even bought some – gasp – shorts.  Shorts, which I would never have felt comfortable in before.  What, exactly, is the problem? I read this very interesting article on Forbes.com today.  Working moms vs. Stay-at-home-moms…the perceptions, the assumptions we gather from each other just by the clothes that we wear to our jobs.  Working moms?  Dressed up in a suit or otherwise sharply pressed outfit.  Stay-at-home-mom: yoga pants…more specifically Lululemon yoga pants, of the $98 variety.  Now, I’m not knocking my dear friend Lulu.  In fact, if you know me you know I might have a teensy problem when it comes to their delicious clothes.  However, it got me thinking.  As I go about my day and see the various women in my life, am I to assume that each and every one of them is thrilled and unbelievably happy with their bodies?  What are my perceptions, and what is reality?  Do they see flaws?  Are they thinking I wish I had bigger boobs.  I bet she never has to worry about filling out a fantastic little black dress. I wish I had a flatter stomach.  I bet she doesn’t need to wear Spanx. I wish I had arms like her.  I bet she spends hours in the gym to look like that. I wish I didn’t have cellulite.  I bet she doesn’t have cellulite. I think if we are honest with ourselves, we’ve all had thoughts just like these.  And I’ll also bet that the girls you’re wondering about are thinking the exact same things about other girls, or – gasp – you?  It’s a vicious cycle that will probably go on and on.  And maybe, just maybe – they’re not thinking of you at all.  They’re so wrapped up in the noise of their own stuff they haven’t ever noticed that maybe your thighs do touch and maybe your boobs are a little saggy after breastfeeding two babies.  Maybe you do have a constellation of stretch marks across your stomach.  But, do they really see?  And do they really care?  Maybe they’re worried about what you see when you look at them.  I’d venture to say it’s probably the latter.  So maybe we should give each other, and ourselves a break.  Maybe if we’d all stop thinking about our flaws at the exact same time we’d all be having a lot more fun.  So, back to the dress I tried on.  It was darling.  Right up my alley.  Made my legs look fantastic.  But I couldn’t get past how un-Madonna my arms looked in it.  So I went back home with my new Spanx and no dress to wear over them, hanging my head in defeat and this close to climbing up out of my shame spiral via a big fat bag of pretzel M & M’s. Don’t worry.  I didn’t cave.  But I’m still feeling kinda down in the dumps about the whole thing.  And that stinks. I’d like to get to a place in my life where a visit to the dressing room doesn’t ruin my whole day.  Here’s hoping.  Let’s all end the day with a nice, gentle, loving thought about ourselves, shall we? I will do the same.  Or, try to, at least.