Funny, my last blog brought a lot of comments. SO MANY OF US don't realize how we've lost weight. I think it's terrifically scary that we all can't see ourselves. So many people commented either privately or publicly that they have no idea that they are at goal weight in their emotional space, just intellectually. Amazing.
I also think the visits owe partially to some generous popular EPers, like
AshleyB, shouted out in her blog to me. THANK YOU, ASHLEY!
(OK, I can't resist making a comment that I'm now in with "the popular chicks" on EP. I feel like high school...yet another note to self to clean up THAT mental mess. Oddly, I WAS popular in high school. I was also thin & went to a school where we were all made to feel very loved. Thank goodness, as I don't think I'd have survived those years without
The Baltimore School for the Arts.)
Now I'm past THAT tangent.
On to the hilariously fun & exercise-causing Christmas gifts that proved to me that while I look at myself often, I see the EXACT same image in the mirror as ever: FAT. (You know, even when I was VERY underweight, I felt extremely fat & made sure not to eat anything "fattening" -- which meant "food" to me at that point.)
I'm someone who causes EVERYONE to decide I don't dress well (a truism) and with all good intentions, they buy clothes for me. I told everyone my size: 26W. It's been that for about 6 months. Before that I joked about a "Perfect 22" but it got hard to justify my ever-ballooning bod which skipped sizes in months.
Which brings me to Wednesday night, when I finally mustered the energy to deal with my parents for the belated Christmas/Hannukah scene. My sisters left gifts for me w/ my parents b/c they are GOOD daughters & show up on holidays. To be ultra fair, until x-mas eve, my older sister hadn't seen me in months.
My mother is
incredibly petite, CONSTANTLY talks about how "fat" she is (maybe her elbow is, but nowhere else. I'm only guessing on the elbow b/c I've not examined it, but when someone is 75 & can get away w/ a teensy bathing suit, that's NOT 'fat" -- it's friggin' amazing.) In fact she looks so AWESOME, people no longer believe my 48-yr-old sister & I belong to her anymore. She may have, at one point, been 5 lbs overweight after giving birth at 41 to my younger sister (who's well into her 30s now & I assure you, my mother knew how to do a proper crunch before ANYONE else did.)
To her credit, once it became an issue that was clearly painful for me, she simply tried hard to supplement the wardrobe I refused to buy. Hence I have so many "comfy clothes" (read: "Dad's old flannel shirts" & all sorts of scary "leisurely outfits" because I think, like most people, she's at a loss at how to dress someone
flatteringly in 26W!)
Flash forward to Wednesday night. I duly sat under the tree in size 14 jeans I dragged out b/c everything else kept falling off & I was late. It hadn't hit me YET that they were size 14 & that
must mean I am no longer a 26W. Despite that little meter over there saying I've lost 61 lbs, despite my monthly measurements going down every month, I still think I need to shop at GIANT-GIRL-GRRR-ANIMALS. (Why do clothing manufacturers think fat women want EVERY piece of clothes to have some tacky appliqué on it -- usually very juvenile looking if not an out-an-out cartoon character?)
THE POINT: My older sister & mother gifted me a few clothes. (My older sister must've wrapped presents AFTER she saw me, as the whole receipt was taped in the top of the box, and it held several presents on it, only one to me. THAT was a nice gesture that said to me that SHE, at least, noticed I'd lost weight. We don't speak often, but I'm going to have to call her and thank her. She didn't
say anything, but that taped receipt meant she noticed. She's probably angry at me for losing weight, but she didn't take it out by not allowing me to get something smaller. She may be growing up!)
For once, I TRULY adored these clothes. My older sister is very heavy now herself, so she "gets it" & got me a GORGEOUS jacket. I mean gorgeous. I wanted SO badly for it to fit, & the tag said "2XX" -- so I figured it would fit, still not putting together that I was SITTING INDIAN STYLE in size 14 jeans and breathing just fine. I modeled it & my mother said, "It looks like a clown suit." My father said, "Pull it to one side. Let's see how many more of you could fit." I think at least another half or more of me could've. I mentioned having it taken in, but they both said, in only a way that people who've NEVER bought their own clothes from a discount store could say, "Take it IN? It came from
Marshalls!" So I broke down, "I'm gonna have to return this, eh?" Yes was the answer.
Then my mother said, "And you're going to have several more things to return as well." That was true. I'd said I needed belts, but 26W belts wrapped more than a time and a half around me. I LOVE ONE OF THEM. I tried to get my Dad to take a leather cutter & hole-puncher to it, but he again said, "Return it for something that fits!" So yesterday was "Back to return everything" -- two belts (one was only so-so), the GORGEOUS jacket, a work-out suit, PJs, even GRANNY PANTS. Normally I just donate or wear things anyway, but I couldn't have worn these b/c they were HUGE. Also, I'm aware of how much I need clothes ever since my psychiatrist gave me a speech about wearing clothes that are so big nobody can SEE if I've lost weight, and I think he's right. He always looks good. He even guessed exactly correctly how many sizes too big my clothes are. (I visited him yesterday to show off my bod in properly fitting clothes, and he said, "NOW THIS is a good outfit for you!") I swear he's gay, but he hasn't admitted it to himself yet. Or maybe he's just into transvestism...
But, shockingly, I digress. I parked at one end of the strip mall & started the returns yesterday. I hit a dead end at Target w/ the work-out clothes. I didn't have a receipt for them b/c my mother had a pile of receipts to rival King Tut's largess, and she couldn't find it in the midst of them all. Irritatingly -- esp after waiting in line forever, the woman could tell me exactly how much they cost, that they CAME from Target & that they came from The Women's Dept. In order to rid myself of pants that wrapped all the way around me without putting them on & a similar shirt, I'd have to exchange them for things 1) From the SAME dept & 2) for the same dollar amount. Not ONE thing for the total, but two things for the same amounts. No Store Credit, no nothing. Just a straight return for TWO things from the same dept. Well, I can't shop in Women's anymore. At least I gave up pretty quickly & left with the shadows of my former self in a bag to sit down w/ Mom & go through those receipts OR let her go to Target w/ me w/ her credit card & buy something else after they give her money back to her card.
I HATE RETURNING THINGS. In fact, I've never done it since I was addicted to drugs & tried to get cash for everything. Well, at least I got a nice little walk in. That's how badly I need clothes & don't want to buy them until I stop losing in big chunks (any week now, I believe. I'm down to the final 50, and those WILL be slower. They've gotta be.)
Today I will try to hit Kohl's dept store (another place I have no receipt but that still has a complete tag, and ALL I WANT is a merchandise credit!) After that I'm done b/c the other stuff can't be taken back. My mother gave me things bought in other countries, and I couldn't coerce her to give me plane fare to return things in Ireland and France. I guess St. Vincent DePaul will think, "Oh, the very generous CRAZY WOMAN who gave us the brand new coat/hat/gloves has returned!"
(BTW, It's nearly January & I've made it so far without a coat. I see no reason to purchase one now when I know I'll be smaller next year.)
So, this is my tale of how I have no clue what I look like & no clue how my body has changed and how it caused me to do something I'd never imagined myself doing. BTW, Marshalls will take nearly ANYTHING back. They took back something I didn't mean to return but happened to be in the bottom of the bag under the jacket. It didn't COME from Marshalls, but they gave me $5 credit for it before I could say, "No, that came from my aunt in Connecticut!" Fine -- I hated it anyway, and I would feel silly donating a matching dip bowl/spreading knife to the homeless. When I was homeless, I didn't do a lot of entertaining that required special serving pieces.
UPDATE ON POSITIVE SELF-TALK:
It works. Really, it does. I've ended up not having time to combat every negative thought as it crawls through, so I just jot them down & some are hard to answer, so I have to think about them, but I'm gathering an arsenal of positive thinking. & The gratitude list continues elsewhere.
I'm still a bit down some days. Yesterday I felt down, but I was able to function & exercise & eat properly, so all wasn't lost. I feel Back On Track after the holiday eating/drinking festivities, and I'll tell you the tale of no-pooping another day. Suffice it to say I had to call in "The FLEET" -- and I have never been so terrified to do anything, but that was how desperate I was. I think I've figured out what's wrong, but that's all for another day.
FINAL THOUGHT(s):
I will make some visits then go treat myself to another episode of 24 to "slow jog" to before going for my
FINAL WI for the Biggest Loser Challenge.GO RED TEAM! I can't believe it's OVER already. How bizarre is THAT? I've done well: surpassed my 11lb goal. Hopefully today I'll weigh less than last week despite WI only 36 hrs after a HUGE meal on Wednesday (followed by a Bloody Mary & snacks when I got home: my parents drive people to drink. THAT is a fact. I had a 45-pt day Wednesday. I'm still feeling it.)
Well, that's all for this morning. If I wanna slow jog before WI, I'd better go get movin'. If I don't exercise now, there will be NO time at all until tomorrow, and I'm BACK IN THE GAME! (Though I will be drinking copious quantities on New Year's Eve after I finish working. I have a designated driver, so no worries.)
Hugs to ALL my fellow EPers -- Ella
(But seriously, I really need an extreme dental make-over. Wish I could sue the makers of Tetracycline that made my teeth nearly GRAY as a child.)
