This past Friday I went shopping.
This statement, by itself, doesn’t really mean much. It was Black Friday, after all (and today is Cyber Monday and the last day of the sale in my Etsy shop! Free worldwide shipping on jewelry, ornaments 10% off. Deals expire tonight). Honestly, I had no intentions of purchasing anything while we were out. I really just wanted to go to a particular store in our hometown as I wanted to check out sleeves for my new Nook (yes, yes, this librarian finally joined the e-Reader craze and, believe it or not, I can’t remember why I held out so long). Anyway, after looking and deciding on one to let my mom know I’d like as a Christmas gift, Sissy wanted to head over to Ann Taylor Loft.
I have never shopped at a Loft before, but as we walked in I was excited, thinking that maybe I’ll be able to fit into their clothes finally.
Perusing the racks, I asked Sissy how their clothes are cut. That is, are they large, small, true to size. In the end I grabbed a few L and XL just to get an idea and went for the dressing room.
Here’s where things get….interesting.
One of my finds was a lace dress. I grabbed a Large. Only, when I put it on it didn’t fit. It was too big. And I don’t just mean, like, it had a bit of give. I was drowning in this dress. The next dress I put on, also an L, was also like wearing a tent. And don’t even get me started on any of the XLs.
A few weeks ago I went to Target and bought a new hoodie, sized Medium. I thought it was a fluke. Just the way Target (or, well, Merona) sized clothes.
No, ladies and gents, it is not a fluke, as I ended up buying the second dress (a gorgeous red sweater style) in a Medium. I also was thisclose to buying black leggings in a 14 (until Sissy pointed out I’d be able to find leggings just about anywhere and way cheaper. Old Navy ended up having theirs on sale for $5 and I had a $5 reward. Winner Winner Chicken Dinner).
In the past almost-two-years, I have gone from wearing XXL to wearing M. My pant size started at 28 and I’m now at 14. Shoes. Oh, shoes. I’ve gone from wearing 9s to wearing 7s.
I don’t know what to do with this information. It’s overwhelming and a little bit absurd: if asked, two years ago, if I ever thought I’d get to this point (down 119.8 as of this morning) I would have said no. In fact, when people ask me now if I ever thought I’d get this far, I laugh and say “fuck no.” And I’m not even done yet. (It’s also overwhelming to be comfortable wearing things like leggings and sweater dresses. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, indeed.)
The thing is, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see it. I know what the scale says. I know what my clothes say. I have collar bones popping out and defined cheek bones and a dangerous curve to my figure, but I still can’t quite see a woman who wears Mediums. When I get attention from men it leaves me stunned, for when I try to see myself through their eyes, all I see is the old me.
Kelly over at CurvyFitGirl said the fat girl is still in her head and I think that’s my problem, too. It’s a struggle, adjusting to this new body and accepting what I actually look like. Never having been this thin, it’s not as though I have memories or pictures of what it was like before. This is all new territory and while on the one hand it’s very exciting, it’s also, to be perfectly frank, fucking terrifying. And I worry that complaining or being uncomfortable makes me seem ungrateful or whiny or like I’m fishing. When people point out that I’m now skinnier than them I never know what to say: I’ve never been skinnier than anyone before.
Even now I’m struggling to describe what goes through my head these days. The physical aspect of losing weight I’ve got covered. Now I guess I just have to work on the mental aspect.
Anyone else know what this feels like?
Love from the ashes,