Okay, so I’ve lost 107 pounds.
But every single day I still think that every one of those pounds is still on me. I think I won’t fit through that tight space. Or in that small booth. Or on the roller coaster. Or in that size L shirt.
But I do.
And honestly, sometimes, it just freaks me out.
3 months ago I bought a shirt without trying it on. I loved the freaky print and the material, AND it was $8. So I thought, what the heck. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll save it and dream of thinner days.
Sho nuff, it was too small.
It’s been in the closet ever since.
This morning I spied it hanging there in all of its tinyness, (hey…tiny is subjective) so I pulled it out and tried it on.
Fit perfectly. Even a little loose.
I stood in the mirror staring at myself. I remembered trying to tug and pull and suck it in to get the silly thing to fit before. But regardless of my efforts, I still looked and felt like a haggis.
But today there is room leftover.
And for some reason, it was almost confusing. I just looked at myself.
Did someone sneak in here and exchange this for a larger size?
Why can’t I look at myself and see what’s really going on? I’m changing. My body is shrinking. No one is exchanging my clothes like some warped thief in the night. But every once in a while when I catch my reflection, or see a photograph of myself, I think….
Hmmm, that girl sort of looks like me. Wait…..that IS me!
It makes me feel more than just a little nuts sometimes.
Friday morning I was having coffee with My Friend. He had just finished reading my blog for the first time.
He was quiet for a few minutes.
He sipped his coffee.
He looked at me with those compassionate eyes and said, “I don’t like the way you see yourself.”
Me neither.
Then he specifically pointed to the part in my last blog post where I said:
Your Friend isn’t interested in you because you’re a cow.
You ain’t havin’ sex in that body with noooooooooobody.
You can’t wear that sleeveless shirt in public.
He pointed to the first line, the one about me being a cow, and said nothing. He just looked at me with this pained expression on his face.
I sort of half bit my lip in girlish shame.
Next he pointed to the second line, the one about sex, and said “What IS that?”
I said nothing.
Then he pointed to the third line, the one about the sleeveless shirt, and said, “Why not?”
I thought for a moment and then said “That’s the way it all plays out in my head.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then said “Well, we’re gonna change all that.”
It was the first time I have ever felt so vulnerable and known without being scared. And I think that’s just because I feel safe. And accepted.
I often tell people that being extremely overweight is the best way to close yourself off. As big as you are, you can disappear in broad daylight.
It is the ultimate hiding place.
My Friend pointed to another line in my blog entry, and said, “I love this. I love it.” It was the line:
I am losing this weight because it shields me from the intimacy that scares me so much. And I want to finally have that.
It’s okay and good to come out from the hiding place.
Some of us just need an usher.
