One thing I’m looking forward to is looking forward to getting dressed each day. There was a time when it was fun, or at least not stressful. In the last couple years, I’ve spent as little time as possible thinking about clothes, buying clothes, or looking at clothes once I’ve put them on. And I miss it, I miss the fun of getting dressed.
Last year my boyfriend took me clothes shopping for my birthday. I was miserable. There really aren’t a lot of cute clothes in L and XL, at least not where we were shopping. I doubt I would have liked anything, anywhere. Standing in the dressing room, trying on one disaster after the next, trying to be grateful, trying not to hate on my body: I want to remember that feeling. That’s one of my “whys.”
They say, “Love yourself (including your body) no matter what,” but that doesn’t make it easy. He looks at me full on, with genuine desire. This has been one beautiful gift of being overweight: seeing the man I love look at me that way, because he loves me.
I also want to remember how I used to feel about myself, back when I thought I was chubby and wasn’t. The scale doesn’t make you love yourself, no matter what it says. I’m hoping that making myself a priority through what I choose to feed myself will be how I feel the love.
So far, it’s working. I feel better, though I still wince a little at my reflection. I’m only in my fifth week of weight loss, and I’m starting to feel less stress on my body. In sixteen weeks, it will be my birthday. In sixteen weeks, I’ll be 47. I will swim at the pool. I will run with my friends. I will put on something fun.