Weekly Weigh In #12: Playing Dress-Up

Twelve weeks is a long time for me to be on a diet.  Or, more accurately, for me to have stayed with a diet.  That's three months.  Three long, food-less months, drinking shakes and eating puddings while the people around me chew and nibble on delicious things.  Yes, I've had the occasional salad, and I even went off the diet completely over Labor Day weekend - but through all of that, I've basically spent my 21 meals per week drinking shakes and eating puddings.  In fact, I've been doing this so long that people around the office are starting to say, "when do you get to eat again?"  and "when will you be allowed to drink?"  The inquisitive masses aren't trying to sabotage my diet - they're being curious and wanting to understand the seemingly never-ending process of me becoming un-fat.  They're also, in their way, showing support by talking with me about it, rather than sweeping it aside - and I appreciate that.  But the truth is, it's a hard question to answer - I don't know how long it will take.  I do know that the things learned on the journey are incredibly important.  And this week, my lessons were doozies.

Weight at this week's weigh-in:  226

Pounds lost:  1 pound

Total Pounds lost:  42 pounds

At week 3 or week 8, this kind of news would have depressed me.  But not now, as a twelve week veteran of this extreme program, I have learned not to beat myself up over a one-pound-loss week.  It's a loss - and my body goes through cycles - and it's better than gaining, and yadda yadda yadda - all the other stuff people say to soothe me on a one pound loss week.  But this week, I don't feel like I need soothing.  I know that losing pounds is not the only measurement of success, because I had some great stuff happen recently.

As I've mentioned in other posts, we're opening our art museum on 11-11-11.  It will be a special, historic time, and we'll be hosting people of all kinds, from all over the world.  There are plenty of tours to be given through our amazing collection, and much to do in the days that come.  And I literally have nothing to wear.  Nothing that fits, nothing that's appropriate, and certainly nothing that I want to be seen in.  So, I have finally accepted that I have to go shopping.  

It's important to say that the simple action of just going shopping is hard for me, for a couple of reasons.  First, at my core, I'm cheap.  I rarely shop without a discount, coupon or sale afoot.  And shopping for clothes that I know won't fit me in just a matter of weeks really burns my cookies.  The other reason shopping for clothes scares the heck out of me is that I've rarely had good experiences in the much-feared dressing room.  The whole thing makes me want to scream, really.  Seeing outfit after outfit that looks terrible and doesn't fit makes me feel like a failure at life, and drives me directly to the food court.  In fact, this I probably why I have often decided, before even trying on a particular garment, that it would be a tragedy on me and just walked out of the store.  


This time, I hoped shopping would be different.  I told myself that I could do it - and that I really needed to do it - and I went out shopping.  I didn't bring a friend, because there was a better than fair chance that I'd have a meltdown - not something anyone should have to see.  

The first couple of stops were disappointing.  I went to Belk and found gorgeous shoes, but they didn't have my size.  I tried on a few tops, but they were just too pricey.  I left empty handed, as usual.  

I passed up Ross, even though it was finally open, because the crowds were beyond insane.  People were waiting 30 minutes in line for a register.  I knew I wouldn't find anything I loved so much that I'd wait that long.  30 minute lines are for concert tickets and Space Mountain - not discount designer duds. 

I got these in black leather - za za zing!

I headed next to TJ Maxx in search of shoes, and found four pairs of shoes that I LOVE - two pairs of heels, and two pairs of loafers.  I know it's not clothes, but this is a big deal - I bought heels.  I haven't been interested in heels in a long time, because they were never comfortable - who wants 270lbs. of body weight on the balls of your feet all day?  Just losing part of my weight has made all the difference in my comfort.  I left there feeling great that I had a little foundation for the outfits I still hoped were out there.

I then went somewhere I haven't in years - Dress Barn.  (The name alone has often kept me away - who wants to dress like they live in a barn?)  I started looking around, and I was happily surprised - there were some nice things.  Not so much barn wear!  Actual stuff I might like!  So, I picked up a bunch of stuff to try on and headed into the dressing room.  I could hear the creepy-movie-soundtrack in my head, like Jamie Lee Curtis running away from a killer in some awful B-movie.  The door closed, and it was just me and the clothes, and one enormous mirror.  Great.


I put on the first outfit, and I looked - nice.  The second - kinda pretty.  The third - downright flattering.  I tried on outfit after outfit - and a transformation began to happen.  I looked nice.  I couldn't believe it.  I slowly began to realize that I used to take biggest size into the dressing room, just to see if they they would fit.  I didn't care if I looked bad, I just had to find something to wear.  But now,I was looking for something else - I wanted to see how they fit... if they flattered me... if they were pretty, or elegant, or sassy.  It wasn't about just picking the biggest size anymore, it was about finding the size I now am.  (Which was now 2-3 sizes smaller than when I started.)  I actually looked nice in nearly everything I tried on - I didn't have the same bumps and bulges tugging at the clothes, making them look distorted and ill-fitting.  I could see myself, finally, as I was - thinner.  It was a real moment - a really big moment - in the Dress Barn changing room.   I even cried, just a little bit, from relief.  


I came home from my shopping trip all lit up and sparkly, smiling from ear to ear, with more than a few things.  I knew my hubby didn't really care about what I had gotten, but I showed him anyway, modeling my heels and walking with a little swing in my caboose.  I have never, ever felt that good in clothes before.  I finally liked playing dress-up.

Success also happened in other ways - more quietly, and with less tears.  On Thursday night, my sweet husband and I went to see the Martha Graham Dance Company perform at the Walton Arts Center.  When I sat down in the seat, I was completely comfortable, and didn't feel like I was squeezed in at the hips.  I felt like a regular size person for the first time in a long time.  It was quite a moment, sitting in the balcony of the theater, enjoying an extraordinary performance with my honey - even if nobody knew it but me.

The truth is that even when I finish this phase of my diet, I'll always be thinking about food and what choices I'm making.  It will never go away - it can't.  That's just how it is.  And after 12 weeks, I'm finally okay with that.