More than a name change

As many of you know, I'm currently going through the process of changing my last name, having just become a married woman.  Many people do this - it's not unusual.  For me, this is not my first marriage, but it is the first time I'm changing my name, and let me tell you:  it's a load of work.  Forms, phone calls, visiting offices and signing documents.  So far, so good: my social security card, driver's license, and bank accounts are done.  Credit cards are in process.  Passports and records in doctor's offices and the like will fall in line.  I am making headway, but there's going to be lots of places I forget about until the moment when they're critical - and that's frustrating for a type-A control freak like me.


The emotional part of this is not lost on me.  For nearly 39 years, I have been known by that name, and now that's shifting.  While I never had a doubt that I wanted to change my name, the decision to make my maiden name my new middle name surprised even me.  I've rationalized it by citing professional reasons, and the holding on to my family's roots, but  maybe I'm just afraid of losing my old self completely.  I really do find it important to both stay the old me and merge into the family I'm building with my sweet husband and stepson, and this name shift seems to accomplish that wisely.

In truth, it's exciting to see my whole, new name on each document that comes my way - and I am having fun writing my new signature on things and getting used to being called by my new moniker.


And all of this dovetails into the process of this diet.


It's not my first diet, but it is the first one that's working.  And let me just say: it's a load of work.  So far, so good:  I've spend nearly a whole week drinking the shakes and eating the pudding and soup, downing water like it's nobody's business, and I have not once slipped.  I'm making headway, but there are lots of moments that creep up on me and I don't know how hard they'll be until I'm there.


The emotional part of this isn't lost on me, either.  And neither are the juxtapositions.  The new me - the one who will eventually be thinner and more healthy, is a bit like my new last name:  it's what the world sees of me, and how people will come to know me.  (My new last name is even smaller than the old one - coincidence?)  But somewhere inside, the old me still lives, like a maiden name posing as a middle name:  will that girl hold on to the image of what I am now (fat but funny and likable), or release into the image of what I really become ( healthy, thin, still funny and likable, and, to quote my husband, "a hottie")?  

I hear about people who lose enormous amounts of weight that never see themselves as thin. They can only see the old, fat person who once stood in front of the mirror.  They continue to buy dull, dark clothing that's loose and unflattering, never realizing the world of fitted, bright, patterned, tailored fashion that now awaits them.  They end up on "What Not To Wear," throwing their old clothes in a garbage can.  Even after their exasperating journey, some of them cannot let go of, for lack of a better term, their maiden name.  


As with changing my name, changing my body and the way I approach food will take a long time.  The actual tasks of it - drinking the shakes, exercising, retraining my brain to let go of emotionally attaching food to happiness - I know I can do, even when it's hard or inconvenient.  But, like changing my name, the emotional change in my diet is far more important.  I am becoming the person I've always wanted to be, and that's scary.  And wonderful.  And worth doing.


In a short while, I'll look very different.  I'll have more energy and feel better.  My back won't hurt as much.  My clothes will fit with less tugging.  And, I'll even get used to answering to the name, "Mrs. Stewart."  It won't be easy, and I'm sure I'll have a lot of emotional stuff to handle as I go.  But at some point, I'll find my goal weight, and all my documents will say the same name - and nobody will remember the time when it was any other way.


Including me.