I started my new job this week and it’s going great. So much to learn but they are such a nice team to work with that it’s been a pleasure. Hard, but a pleasure. #saucy.
Anyway, I took a couple of hours off on Friday to meet a friend for lunch and have a potter around the shops, and I ended up buying two skirts and a top. During this weight loss journey, I have, up until now anyway, skirted (pardon the pun) around the issue of clothes. I haven’t wanted to buy any new clothes because I wasn’t sure whether they would fit for long, what size I’d be, and whether I’d even look nice in anything. However, my wardrobe is full of size 22 hangers and clothes that are a reminder of a bigger me, and I’m not sure that’s particularly healthy either, but I’ve always had them as a back-up for when I inevitably stopped dieting and put the weight back on. Because that’s how it’s always worked before.
So yesterday, four months after this whole process began, I went into New Look (pretending I was 19 not 45), and thought, I’ll just have a look round and see if anything grabs my attention. I’ve lived in leggings, jeans, jumpers and baggy tops for the last year or so and those type of clothes, along with the lack of mirror in the house, have, in some way, aided my weight gain. It’s really weird to say it now, but I just never realised how big I had got. I hid in baggy clothes and avoided looking at myself because I knew I wouldn’t like what I saw.
Anyway, I don’t want to dwell on that too much now whilst things are going so well, but I saw this particular skirt into different colours but couldn’t find a size 18 in either of them. In fact, I couldn’t find a size 16 or 18 in nearly anything in the entire shop! I spoke to the sales assistant who explained that they only get sent a couple of size 18s and they get snapped up. Even she said when they come in she puts one aside for herself! Quite why they just don’t supply the shop with more when there is clearly a demand, I just can’t get my head around … and that’s a whole other blog post, but I managed to find a nice skirt in a size 16 (and half of the waist is stretchy, so crossed my fingers that I’d get away with it.)
To cut a long story short, the size 16 fit me (yay!) and I think it looks really nice, if I say so myself. A quick aside to those women who have never struggled with their weight, or have always been a size 10. It’s hard to explain how I can feel happy with a size 16 fitting me, when I would imagine that size would seem really big to you, but remember, I was pushing a size 22 when I started this ‘journey’ four months ago, and so it’s exciting stuff (to me anyway!)
And here’s the skirt – mid-calf, nothing special, in this nudey (lol) colour and I got one in navy:
I mentioned this story on my Facebook page and chatted to a couple of lovely women over there who are always super supportive, and we were talking about the psychology behind getting smaller. I mentioned “if” I get slim, instead of “when” I get slim, because I’ve always been big. I mean I’ve never been as big as I was four months ago, but I was always bigger than my friends, and so the thought of being slim and considered a ‘normal’ size, is really alien to me. I can’t get my head around the fact that I’m a size 16 now in most clothes, at least on the bottom – the girls up top are putting paid to that at the moment and I’m still a size 18 in tops, but my body is getting smaller. My brain, however, hasn’t caught up yet, and I don’t know if and when it will.
I wonder whether I will always feel fat? Even when I’m not. I look in the mirror and can see my body getting smaller but it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me yet. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware I’ve only lost two stone and have at least another … well, a few more to go, but the more weight I lose, the more I worry that I’m going to get to the point where the thought of being slim scares me so much that I self sabotage and put all the weight back on. Just like I’ve done before.
Which is crazy right? Intellectually, I understand that, but emotionally it’s very, very different.
But it’s what I’ve done before, at least unconsciously. I’ve worn my extra weight to protect me and if I’m really honest, the more weight I lose, the more scared I get. Whoa, that went a bit deep there, but I’m just typing the thoughts that are coming into my head as I think about it.
I don’t know if anyone can relate to how I feel or whether I’ve just lost the plot and need to mainline a liquidised Twix, but either way, I’m glad I have this corner of the Internet to try and get my thoughts straight because there is no one at home I can talk to, and if I don’t get stuff off my considerably sized chest, I think I may implode.
Anyway, thanks for listening, I am off to paint my nails so that I don’t OD on the Alpen Lights.