The Skin I'm In, For Now

Since I currently have nothing better to do than wait for a hurricane to hit the east coast, and since the temperature is currently plunging into the 50s, I've decided to start going through all of the winter clothes that have been packed away since I moved. I went through all my spring and summer clothes a few weeks ago and took off a huge tub to the Goodwill of all the things I couldn't wear any more. I started that process when I realized that I could take off every pair of pants I owned without unbuttoning or unzipping them and figured it might not be the best first impression to have them falling down, or off, at my new job. I've replaced a lot of my work clothes for smaller sizes, some of which are also starting to get too big, but one thing I realized I haven't replaced are my pajamas. It's actually pretty comical just how big they are and it's a good thing I only have to sleep in them because I'm not sure how well they'd fare if I had to do any kind of activity in them. That really ought to be on the list for my next shopping trip.

 

This may be my own personal crazy, but I have discovered a sort of sentimental attachment to some of my clothing. There were many things that I added to the tub without a second thought, but as I start going through my winter clothes I have this mixed sense of sadness and joy when I find something doesn't fit. I know that rationally I should only be happy that my clothes are ridiculously big on me, and realize that continuing to wear them makes me look sloppy and unprofessional, but there are some pieces that I really like and spent a lot of money on and I find myself hating to have to get rid of them. It's not that I want to be able to fit in them again, more that I wish they would shrink so I could still wear them. Yet I find myself trying on sweaters and thinking, "It's not so big, I could probably still make it work..."

 

I was my old size for several years and had become uncomfortably comfortable at that size. I was used to that size. I had amassed a wardrobe for me at that size. It wasn't the most stylish or fashion forward wardrobe, but I had managed to acquire things that fit me relatively well and that I was comfortable in, for the most part, until I started to grow out of this wardrobe. If you aren't familiar with plus size clothing, and have never ventured to the small dark corners of the store it's usually relegated to, sizing usually goes up in 2s from a 14/16 up to a 24/26 or 26/28 in most stores. In a few places and in catalogs you can find bigger sizes but to my horror I was getting to the point that the biggest size in the store was no longer big enough for me. That was always my benchmark. As long as I can still buy the biggest size in the store, I'm okay. It was when I started having to go online to buy a 30/32 or a 3X/4X, sometimes even 5X that I finally scared myself enough to realize I had to change something, and that is when I had a scary talk with my doctor.

 

I haven't told many people, but the conversation that I had with my doctor the week before I started CrossFit involved options for weight loss. It was a discussion we'd had many times before, but this time I had narrowed down my options to two and was seriously considering one that had scared me for years, gastric bypass surgery. I was terrified of how big I had gotten and how futile my attempts to lose weight had been over the last year and I finally felt that surgery might be my only hope. Luckily the doctor and I decided that I should first try the second option I presented, joining Brickhouse CrossFit. One week later I embarked on this journey that has made the prospect of weight loss surgery not even in the realm of necessity for me.

 

It is sometimes difficult for me to see the changes that have occurred over the last six months. I am often acutely aware and at the same time oblivious to how far I have come in this short amount of time. I am definitely not a skinny girl, or even a fit girl, yet, but I sometimes still feel like a fat girl. Like the morbidly obese girl I used to be. I look at myself in the mirror a lot more than I used to because I have to remind myself that I'm not that girl anymore. That I'll never be that girl again.

 

I realize the changes when I try on clothes that used to be too small and are now ridiculously big. I rejoice over the fact that I can sit at a booth in a restaurant now without having to make my whole group move to a table because the booth table is fixed to the floor or wall and I just can't fit. I smile inside and out when I can sit in one seat at the movie theater with the armrest down. I cried a little when I didn't have to ask the flight attendant for a seat belt extension on my last flight.

 

These are the things that I need to be holding on to, not the clothes that the old me used to have to wear. I'm currently only one or two sizes away from being able to buy "normal" women's clothes from any store I want, and that has been a goal of mine since the first time I had to buy men's jean shorts in middle school because there weren't any others in my size. Never. Again.

 

Here's to the next six months, and the rest of my life, being happier and healthier with every step.