Thursday, November 06, 2008
Today is the last day of a very special farewell tour.
Okay, well, maybe it's not that special. But it's a definite farewell tour. As in, I will never, ever see these things again. I will never, ever wear them again.
What are they?
Okay, it's a little embarrassing.
Size 10 panties, in all their glory.
They are, as you can well imagine, as exciting and sexy as all get out.
I wore them forever, or at least it seemed that way. I wore them when I really should have been wearing a larger size. I wore them as I shrank and they turned from what were already granny panties into enough fabric to recover a Buick.
My friend Tess once explained that your panty size is essentially, for whatever reason, one-half the number of your pant size. And that's about right, although panties are, by definition, stretchy. So you can cheat and wear sizes that are too small. You might be uncomfortable but you get to kid yourself, lie to yourself, that things aren't that bad.
With size 10 panties, I was pretending to fit into a size 20 pant. Ha! Not even close! I was a size 28 before I started taking better care of myself. You can imagine how uncomfortable those panties were, and how stretched out they became.
Yet I clung to them, for some odd reason. I guess that is a big obstacle for me -- letting go. Sometimes it's hard to just toss away not just what you owned, but what you WERE. I have tossed a lot of clothes, or given them away. I have discarded habits and ways of thinking. But it was hard to toss these silly old panties.
It was hard to pull back from what I've been and turn into what I'm becoming. Hard to say, "Enough already. This is not you any more. This is the past. It's over." It's just fabric, right? It's just something that no one sees anyway.
Why was it so hard to let them go, even though, frankly, I wanted to let them go?
Fear. I know it. It's fear. A little excitement, for sure, but I think fear and excitement sometimes hold hands, and you can have trouble prying them apart. The excitement of becoming a new person. Becoming -- amazingly -- a sexy person -- was and often still is wrapped up in insecurity. It's easy to talk about boldness from behind a keyboard. But to get out there -- and I don't even mean to meet men, but just to put myself out there as a confident, together person -- that's a challenge.
They're just cloth. Just colored stretchy cloth.
And now they're trash.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
No woman does, either.
If you're an American, and you're of age, I do hope you've voted, or you're going to today.
If not, well, I guess you have no opinions on taxes. On war. On abortion. On immigration. On energy. On the Supreme Court. On what happens between the US and any other country.
But I think you DO have opinions on those things, and more. So go out there. Grab an umbrella if it's raining. Take a sweater if it's cold. Bring your kids. Bring your dog. Bring your mother. Just go.
You've got the power.
Monday, November 03, 2008
I'm up slightly, so I've still got 99 pounds to go. I've always liked this song, but prefer it in German. It's about the Cold War, and particularly about divided Berlin, so German just feels best.
Anyway -- I'm up. But there are good reasons. I had two restaurant meals last weekend, as opposed to the usual one, plus the second one was for a late lunch yesterday. I believe that restaurant meals have way more salt than we can taste so that doesn't surprise me.
I also have water retention because of, heh, do I have to spell it out for ya? This one happened in 3 weeks instead of 4. All a part of the glory that is perimenopause. Oof. The last thing I need is 25% more of those, but it's entirely possible.
And the last reason is that we did an amazing amount of exercise yesterday. It was 30 minutes of slower walking to get to the restaurant, then 20 minutes faster walking to return (we were trying to make a bus, which we did -- yes!), then another 30 minutes of carrying light groceries. Hence we did a lot more than I usually did, and I did not get a rest day, which I normally get on Sundays. Next week, I will definitely rest on Sunday. I need it!
In the meantime, there's bowling tonight (for my sorority). I wonder how many calories it burns ...?
Saturday, November 01, 2008
It could be normal but it isn't quite ....
99.9 is pretty close to the number of pounds I still need to lose. It's less, actually, but if I rocket past goal, well, who's to say?
Today my husband and I went out and played frisbee, and yesterday I walked home from a much farther away bus stop than usual and tomorrow we are meeting someone for a late lunch and are going to walk from a remote stop and and and and ....
This is the new me. This is the new normal. I walk. I jog a bit. I play. I putter around and break out into spontaneous shimmying. I can do all kinds of things that were painful before. Seemingly small and silly things like being able to keep my arms up long enough to get my hair dried with the blow drier, and standing long enough to get a mess of vegetables chopped and ready to go for the week, and walking to and from so many different places and avoiding driving and traffic and parking and all of that agita much of the time.
The old gal, she was not a fan of walking. Walking hurt. Shin splints were a way of life. Clothes were tight and painful to move in. Thighs chafed. Arms did not feel good when swung. Breathing was tough, she was out of breath. She didn't sleep well, and snored loudly. She is me.
She's not me any more.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Everyone wears masks.
Not just today, but every day.
We hide our true feelings. We tamp down our preferences. We sequester our opinions. We shunt aside who we really are.
We do it to be accepted. We do it to be admired. We do it to be rewarded. We do it to fit in.
We do it to be loved.
I realized I loved my husband (long before I married him) when I realized I wasn't pretending to be someone I wasn't and he loved me anyway.
I realized that I, as a person, as an individual, as someone different and unique and quirky, was worthy of affection and caring.
One of the things I think a lot of us do as we get heavier is, we hide behind the fat. No one looks at the fat girl, the fat friend, the fat guy. Unless, I suppose, you dress up as Santa. And then that's just another mask. The fat friend is always the sidekick, the wingman, the wacky neighbor or the one who's dying or evil but not the lead.
Be the lead role in your life. But this time, take off the mask. Show who you really are. Reveal your thoughts and speak your mind. Insist on what you need, whether it's food to fit into your plan or clothes to fit your body or time to exercise and take care of yourself. Be assertive without fear, but also without rancor.
Perform a striptease of your soul.
I think you'll find everybody is just like you. Maybe not exactly. Not precisely. But most of us have the same values, the same dreams (but with different specifics, of course), the same fears. We want health. We want security. We want companionship (and also want independence and sometimes some solitude). We want love. We want freedom. We want to be who and what we are.
It's the same, it's the same in the whole wide world.
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