Tuesday, March 11, 2014
I knew it'd happen, and it did happen. This is the perfect example of the sweet and sour taste of weight loss.
I have a distorted view of my own body, I'm aware of that. In fact I'm pretty sure most people do, some more than others. I don't think of myself as obese anymore, but I still overestimate my general proportions when it comes to clothes shopping.
I'll always remember when I was around my lowest weight in 2012 (maybe 162 pounds); the loss was hard to process mentally. I had a dream where I was out of my body and watching myself like I were someone else; and in this dream I was my old 205 pounds fat self. 40 pounds lighter I still dreamed of myself the way I looked TWO YEARS before.
Last week I went to Costco because I love going there and you can save a lot on food. I always take a look at books (and end up buying at least one, which is ruining me) and sometimes I'll look at the clothes. I like the clothes there because they're very plain and make good basics and they're good quality and not so expensive. Also they generally carry nice workout clothes and I needed new pants.
Because last week I put one pair in the giveaway pile in my bedroom, and it felt like I was always wearing the same ones to the gym, including two that are getting uncomfortably loose, so I wanted a new pair.
Obviously at Costco there's no fitting room so you have to guess. There were PILES of yoga pants, from tight shorts (my brain immediatly thought "no way Jose" when I saw those) to capris to sweatpants and long pants, etc.
There was one model I really liked, 15 bucks, black with a choice of flashy colors on the belt and the sides (lime green, pink, ice blue etc.) but when I looked at the sizes I became horrified. The L size looked like a small. And there were only S, M and L available apparently.
So I went to another pile of more conservative capris that came in black and grey. Again the sizes didn't look right to me for some reason. I took a pair of XL pants and put them in front of my hips. They just looked a little tad too big, so I took a pair of large and did the same thing.
I thought they'd be tight and maybe I couldn't wear them before I lost another 4-5 pounds.
I washed them and they went in the drawer. Sunday night when I prepared my gym bag I decided to put them on to see if they actually fit.
Well turns out they do, and are actually a little loose. I'd be really comfortable wearing them for a walk, but when I'm on the treadmill they tend to fall off a little. The waist is high so it's not a big problem (nobody sees my underwear) but it doesn't feel right.
I know it should be a good sign, etc. but I'm actually deceived because 1- obviously I removed the tags and washed them so I can't return them anymore or exchange them for a smaller size; 2- I still can't figure out what my size is. I believed they would be TIGHT. Like, uncomfortably tight. Instead, they are uncomfortably loose.
After my shower yesterday night I took a look at my naked body in my tall mirror. Like, for ten minutes. (The boyfriend wondered what the hell I was doing.) I took a look at my hips and tried to explain to my brain that these hips do fit in smaller pants now. It's not even about the size on the tag - I know that those letters don't actually mean anything when it comes to size because sometimes I wear medium and sometimes I wear XL, it depends on the brand and all that stuff. (I'm a size 8 at Old Navy, which is pretty ridiculous. I can't even fit in some of my old size 10 pants that I had 10 pounds lighter.)
It's the fact that I can't take a look at a piece of clothing and figure out if it'll fit me or not. My brain automatically thinks it'll be too small. I've spent so many years trying on clothes that didn't fit, it's like my brain's damaged forever. I remember the first time I could actually buy pants in my hometown. It's a small city and there aren't a lot of stores there; back then there were maybe 4 or 5 selling clothes for teens, and not one carried pants in sizes that fit me. The first time I shopped for pants there and found a pair that fit, it wasn't even the biggest size, it was the second one. I cried on the way back home, proud and relieved.
I remember the frustration of trying on ten articles and buying the one that fit the most (aka the only one I could put on) even if I looked ridiculous in it and never wore it. I remember crying in fitting rooms when I couldn't get out of the dress I just tried on because I was stuck and couldn't ask for help. I remember the despair of not being able to follow the trends, the ridiculously large baggy shirts I wore to hide myself.
Today I wore the last L size shirt left in my wardrobe. It's definitely too big and it's going in the giveaway pile.