I'm at a weight I haven't been since high school. When I go through my closest, I still expect all the big clothes to fit. It's strange to try them on to find they're too big on me now. I've finally accepted that the 2x and 3x clothes don't fit. They hang on me, resembling something a clown might wear to get a laugh. The extra room reminds me of a small child playing dress up in mommy's clothes. Over a few days, I ripped through the closet and tore out anything that I can fit another person in along with me. Bags and bags of clothes are sitting in my basement ready to be consigned. Some of those bags have clothes that, even at 3x or a 28, didn't fit me at my largest because they were too tight. Now, they fall off.
I go into the stores to replenish my emptied closet to find that anything in the plus-size section is too big. I can amble through the misses sizes, pull a large (sometimes a medium) off the rack, and have it fit nicely. Sometimes, I try on stacks of clothes simply because I can. It's like a natural high. I can look through those racks at clothes that will fit. Even in stores that don't even carry plus-sizes, I can find clothes. Jeans aren't a pipe dream, a wish of "maybe one day they'll fit." I can pull them on over my hips and butt and even button them after easily sliding up the zipper. Be comfortable wearing them. Not feel crammed into the largest size, fabric digging into my skin so much that I yank them off as fast as humanly possible so I can breathe again.
People I haven't seen in months exclaim at how different I look when I see them next. I always feel awkward with compliments, along with not being able to see the difference myself. So brush off the kind, encouraging words with a, "Yes, about 27lbs. left to go, still!"
Physically, I can do an hour on the elliptical without much issue. I can take long walks and want to keep going, rather than getting winded and searching out the nearest place to sit. The hot summers don't feel quite so hot anymore. I actually go outdoors to enjoy the weather, rather than always hiding from the sun. I can even fit into chairs, though it's always in the back of my mind that maybe they'll break.
The evidence points to the fact that I do look different. I just can't see it in myself.
Maybe the weight loss has been too gradual for me to be able to see the difference. Maybe I'm so used to being large that I can't believe it is actually true. Fear that I'll gain the weight back might be getting in the way. The weight loss has taken so long (I'm not even done yet at 20.5 months in) and has been so hard that I'm terrified to go back to what I was before. Maybe subconsciously, my brain figures if I still see the huge person, if the huge person comes back it won't be as devastating. Sorry, brain, you might as well let me see the smaller person. The weight gain wouldn't be handled well either way.
I wonder if, when I finally reach my goal weight, I'll see a smaller person. Or if I'll always going to see that big girl who tries on the largest size in the store, often finding it doesn't even fit because it's too small. A girl who can't walk around the block even once without getting winded. When will the inside catch up with the outside? When will I see the truth in the mirror instead of the lie?
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