So recently I had a moment that hit me like a lightning bolt, and since then I can’t quite shake the intense feeling it’s left. So story time:
Back in 2010 I was at my all time heaviest weight of 244 pounds. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but for a 5’6 female I did not carry the weight well. I was only twenty years old, and every day I felt disgust at my body. In my teens I was really active with martial arts and kickboxing and my fight weight was listed at 175, thought I was usually a bit under. That was my normal, and being so far from it was taking a toll on me mentally. One day I looked in the mirror and felt such hatred at what I saw, I said enough. I decided that something was going to change, and I spent the next four years working on it. I started with tiny changes, like switching normal sodas to diet, walking a mile once every few days, etc. There has been many failures and a couple successes along the way. I always seemed to get really excited and motivated about it for a few months and then have a slight set back of gaining a couple pounds and then give up for a few months. I always eventually came back to it though. This past Christmas, my loving husband gave me an exercise bike to use at home because he knows I hate working out in front of other people. He’s been with me since before the weight gain and has always been so supportive. I weighed myself then, and I was 193.2. Today, I am 177.6. And while the 67 pounds lost is an awesome feat, that’s just the backstory.
My moment came last week. For Valentine’s day I had gone a little overboard and bought three outfits to wear for my husband. One he could see me in a couple days before, one on the day of that was the sexiest of the bunch, and one just for sometime later. The first two I had tried on and scrutinized in a fitting room. The third however, I had simply picked up off the wrack and eye-balled it to see if it would fit. I remember thinking at the time, “Hm, it looks a bit small. It might fit. This material is kinda stretchy, so surely it’ll be okay.” I bought it. I finally got around to putting it on last week, and the strangest thing happened… It was too big. Like, comically too big. I had pulled in over my head and was staring at the space between my skin and the fabric in wonder. I let it go… and it just fell to the floor in a circle of fabric around my feet. I was shocked, confused, and… at a loss for words. I picked it up and just stared at it for the longest time. This is what I thought I looked like. This was the size I thought I was.
The whole thing has just stuck with me and left me with a sense of humble appreciation and childlike wonder at my body. It’s like for the first time in so many years I’m starting to give myself permission to let go of that disgust and hate that I held onto for so long. I have internalized it, made it part of my identity. I always thought that I felt that way because of what I was. And last week it just made me feel as if it was all just in my head. I feel like someone hit the ‘reset’ button on my self-image? When I look at a side by side before and after image from 2010 and now, I still feel disgusted by how I look at the ‘before’. But now, I find the ‘after’ image pleasing, where not too long ago I would’ve said something like, “Still got a loooooooong way to go.”
It was a huge moment for me, both mentally and emotionally, and I guess I just wanted to share.
Achieving–nay, surpassing–a goal is always a wonderful feeling.