One of the positives about always being heavy is you never really “gain weight” — you just are always “big.” There’s no yo-yoing, no four sizes of clothes in your closet that all could fit on a day’s notice.
I’ve never experienced the whole “tight clothes dilemma” … or needing to buy new things … until now. Now my body dysmorphia (when I lost weight and was “thin” and still thought I was fat) has turned into full fledged reality; no, I don’t mean to imply I’m fat, but I’m uncomfortably chunky at the moment.
Over the past two years or so, sure, I’ve had to move certain things to the back of my closet; even skinny people experience this from time to time. (Those white capris from the summer of 2005, for example. At my thinnest, they fit perfectly but now? HA.)
But for the most part, I have been able to wear almost everything I used to wear. Until now.
Unfortunately, literally nothing is fitting me right at the moment … It’s not just in my head now — the scale is up, my clothes are tight, my rings are right, my face is puffy, and I’m going to Mexico in three days a good ten pounds above where I wanted to be, which is a good thirteen or fourteen above where I am most comfortable (incidentally, the weight range the trainer’s RMR test showed me as my goal).
Trying on clothes for this trip tonight was awful and nearly had me in tears. All my capris were tight, and even my skirts were tight! Skirts! My waist has always been my best asset … and now? It’s thick and none of my skirts laid right. They zipped, sure, but tight as hell and I can only bring one denim skirt with me; the khaki one that was always loose, I have to leave behind until another day.
I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence is there, plain as day.
My husband walked in and asked what was wrong. He tried to console me by saying I’m getting older and it’s natural that things won’t necessarily fit at 29 the way they did at 25 … I know he means well, and he thinks I am beautiful and have a great figure.
But I hated that answer, and made that quite clear to him. There’s no reason why I can’t at least feel comfortable in my own skin, and I don’t at the moment. Not even close.
The anxious me just wants the weight to go the hell away. But I know that life doesn’t work that way, and just like I had to chip away at weight five years ago, it looks like I have no choice but to go it again.
No matter how hard I exercise, I am still eating too much to lose, or not eating the right things, or have been doing this so long that it’s simply not working. I’ve not been eating as clean as I could, and it’s showing.
And I don’t want to go into restrictive mode … some crazy “diet” — no, thanks, not going down that path. I’ve already shared here I’ve never starved myself or binged and purged and believe me, that isn’t about to start now.
I also know I need to be particularly careful; I am coming at this from a disordered eating perspective now, not just a high-on-losing gal trying to lose weight.
So I’ve decided tonight that I’m going to try to focus on the positive.
1) I’m seeing a trainer now (we have a session tonight and another one tomorrow — then one more when I get back). She wants me to cut down on cardio, lift more, and eat less. I think I can do those things; I know I can. 2) I know what I’m doing wrong; I just haven’t wanted to admit it. It’s part of that “entitlement” factor. 3) I have the willpower to take the steps to do this all over again, five years later.
It sucks to face the music, but there’s no denying it. Since blogging and trying to recover from disordered eating issues this past summer, I’ve gained about ten pounds. Talk about ironic. And it’s showing in so many ways.
I’ve just never felt this uncomfortable in my own skin … not even at my heaviest. Honest. I think that’s because back then, I accepted my figure as it was. And when I chisled away at it — something I didn’t think was even possible — I developed a new appreciation for it, a profound love for my new shape.
Now, once again, I’m struggling with body acceptance … because I know my potential, and I’m not getting there. Sometimes I think I try too hard and if I just let it be, I’d be ok and lose again. But I also know I lost being diligent … and that hasn’t changed … but I am still gaining.
I remember a while ago I said I would stop trying to lose weight if I didn’t make my goal before Mexico. Well, folks, I have to take that back … at the very least, I need to get back to where I was then; which is plenty more than I am now.
I know I can do it, it’s just feeling monumental at the moment, not how I want to be feeling before vacation. I am going to make a concerted effort to steer clear of Diet Coke (which bloats me) and sugar (and no, I don’t do much of the fake stuff and am not about to start now) for the next couple of days; it won’t make a dent on the scale, but will make me feel better. And maybe I can keep it up!
Anyway, thanks for your support, through thick and thin, literally. I know this is my blog about disordered eating, but this is what is honestly plaguing me at the moment. If I can’t speak the truth here, where can I speak it!?
Just know that I won’t give up. Struggling — yes. But giving up? No; that’s not in my DNA.
I’m looking forward to our trip, being in Mexico together (we’re also meeting my mother-in-law there) and to my new dress. Those are things to look forward to, for sure.