The Size of Life

Last night, I went out for a long over-due evening out with my two closest gal pals.  A girls' night out means I get to get a little dressed up, splash on some make-up, and make my hair cooperate into looking like I have at least put in some effort to fix it.

It's somewhat of a special occasion for me.  I don't wear make-up very often.  My hair remains in a firm pony tail or down with a quick brush through 98% of the time.  And recently, my clothes of choice have been baggy shorts and t-shirts.

I thought I'd be really excited about my night to glam myself up just a little.

That was, until I walked in to my closet.

As I rummaged around for clothing, I began to get a little upset.  I tried a few things on, and couldn't take my eyes off of the fat roll that emerged around my waist.  The jeans that I usually run to in my time of need were hard to button.  Every shirt clung to me like cling wrap exposing all the bulges and bumps that my body now has on display.  It was depressing.

I decided to stick with my jeans - tighter than what they were the last time I put them on.  And I grabbed a button up shirt that was way too hot for the weather, but did a good job of covering the mountain range around my mid-section.

My friends and I went out to eat at a small pizzeria.  We sat out on the patio and ordered a couple of drinks.  I was so uncomfortable.  I was hot and sweaty.  I felt shaky on the little plastic chair I was sitting on.  I wanted nothing more than to get out of there and hide.

After dinner, we went back to my friend's house and sat on her porch.  Where I didn't have to worry about who was looking at me, or feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

I realized this morning, that's not who I am.  Or used to be.  I was the girl who LOVED going out.  I enjoyed mingling with complete strangers.  I enjoyed the night life feel and vibes.  But, then I realized...

I'm not that girl, anymore.

I was that girl when I weighed 212lbs.  When I looked in the mirror and didn't see fat rolls or awkward bulges, but progress.  I saw a slimmer waist-line.  Still not perfect, but much better than I'd ever seen before.  I saw banging curves.  I put clothes on with ease, and felt good in them.

It hit me that my size is defining who I am.  Again.

I don't like that feeling.  I don't like knowing that the way I look affects how I feel about being out in public, spending time with my friends, interfering with my ability to enjoy myself.   But, I know deep down there's only one way to fix it.

I have to change.

Not just the way I feel, but the way I look.  I can't go on pretending that I'm OK with myself right now.  Because I most definitely am not.  I can't pretend that my size doesn't define me.  Because it does.  When I'm fitter and thinner - I'm happier.  When I'm bigger and less fit - I'm unhappy.  When I struggle to get in to my clothes, or don't like the way I look in them - I'm down right miserable.

The first four weeks of my summer break I was preoccupied with being at my parents'.  Last week, I was preoccupied with teaching classes at a summer camp.  What do the next five weeks hold?  Being preoccupied with losing this damn weight and getting my life back.  There's no more time to sit and worry about it, anymore.  I just have to do.

And you can take that to the bank.

In five weeks, I will stand in front of my mirror and be more happy about what I see.  I will put on a pair of pants and not struggle and wiggle to squeeze myself in to them.  I will go out for an evening jog, because that's become the habit of what I need to do in order to keep pushing through. 

My size will have a new definition for my life.  It will be smaller.  The size, but my life will be better.  I will be better.  And it won't be about how I look, but what I've accomplished.  Well, who am I kidding?  How I look will be a big part of it, too.

I'm ready.

Till next time. ;)
T