Last night before the movie, Misty and I wandered around Kent Station (I KNOW... KENT!) and we popped into some stores where I picked up a pair of pants.
This is not monumental news until you realize that I have not purchased any clothing outside of the "Woman" aka "big lady" department stores since college. (19 years ago.)
I bought these pants without trying them on because they were cute (charcoal,) wouldn't need to be hemmed (I'm a hobbit) and they WOULD fit within a few months. Oh, and they were on sale.
This morning I put them on to torture myself to see how far I need to go before I'm buying clothes in real stores and holy shrinking woman they FIT. They don't fit, like I'm leaving the house in them anytime soon, but I got them on, zipped them up and could actually sit.
I will admit that this is a HUGE... or rather not HUGE milestone and I cried a little bit. I know this weight loss thing is real, I see it in my face, I feel it in how I'm relating to people and in how I'm eager to try dating, but sometimes it is hard not to think that it is all a crazy mistake.
Sometimes the idea of being me, and being a normal size is overwhelming. It was easy to be so big that you're invisible. I'm "out there" now - and it is a good thing.
I also wonder if the weight loss is whacking out my emotions. I have cried more in the last two weeks than I have in years. My life isn't that traumatic so what's with all the waterworks? The support group information says that fat cells store hormones, and as the cells shrink the hormones are released which could account for some of the tears and some of the ... um... increased..um...desire to *blush* "make out with men on my couch".
So, far the tears have felt pretty good - even the crocodiles on the bus - darn you Mike, and the other thing, well it's motivating me to attack the match.com thing with gusto, so that's not bad either.
Enough of this... I'm off to the gym. (See it is a whole new me.)
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