And now for something less… frantic.
Can we talk? Because
I feel like talking. Back and forth in
the comments even.
I’m 110 pounds thinner than I was in January.
I realize that sounds like a lot. I think it sounds like more than it actually
feels like.
I always thought, if I could just lose 50 pounds, if I could
just lose 60 pounds, if I could just lose 90 pounds – well then I would be ecstatic
about how I looked. I would feel beautiful.
I would be a rock star. Men would
fall at my feet (not sure that would be a good thing, since
I've been MARRIED FOR 15 YEARS, but still).
Here is the thing about losing a ton of weight. Yes, you feel better. Yes, you feel prettier. But you are still you. It doesn’t change your bone structure or your
snaggly teeth. You don’t reclaim your
twenties. If anything, you have more wrinkles because the fat is not
plumping out your face. You look like you, but somewhat thinner.
For some reason that was a surprise.
When I hit a normal BMI, I kept waiting for something
drastic to happen. Like suddenly someone was going to jump out of a closet armed with a magic lipliner pencil and I'd suddenly be glamorous.
Didn't happen. Obviously.
I still look like a mom.
My body still displays the after-effects of
four c-sections. Yes, I’m a size 6 in
dresses and a size 8 in jeans , and that’s a major improvement, but naked, I
look like a pudgy sharpei – lots and lots of loose skin. (Yes, I’m sure you’re happy to have that
visual, you’re welcome.) And I still
need to lose about 20 pounds.
I say that, but honestly I’m not really sure how much I have
left to lose, because I have NO CONCEPT of what I look like. I walk down the street and wonder, “Am I
bigger than that lady? Smaller? Thinner?
Thicker?” I have no idea. I look down at my legs and they still look
pretty fat to me. When someone takes my picture I pore over it, trying to
figure out what size I am and what I really look like. I feel like I look
different in every mirror, in every picture. When I have my picture taken next
to my size zero sister the resulting pictures make me look enormous, which
throws me off for days.
I do not feel beautiful.
At most I feel average looking.
I’m not fishing for compliments here. I don’t need you to tell me that you think I
look nice, or that I’m crazy, or – anything like that. The problem is that I don’t believe it
myself, and no amount of other people saying so is going to fix that. I don’t even know if it needs to be
fixed. Why do I feel this is a problem
even?
What is my big issue here, that I
don’t look like Gwyneth Paltrow?
Am I still so shallow that I feel like in order to have
value I need to be exceptionally attractive?
What, exactly, is so wrong with being average looking?
That is, in fact, how I feel. Average looking. For the most part, I like it. When I think about it, I like feeling average. Average means that people don’t have much to
say about your appearance, pro or con, and that feels good to me. I don’t worry about whether or not people are
thinking “my gosh, she’s fat” when I walk into the room. They might be thinking that my hair is an odd
shade of blonde (unfortunate incident with a box of hair dye, don't ask) or that I have a weird nose, or that I have no fashion sense (I don’t) but they
aren’t thinking that I’m obese. That
feels comforting to me.
(What I really ought to be worrying about, at my cubicle at 6 in the morning, is what is going on with my hair. That is not static electricity, that is just what my gray/dyed blonde hairs feel like doing, regardless of what I put on them. THEY WILL NOT BE TAMED.)
I think we are just geared to want to feel beautiful. Even the campaigns that talk about being your
own kind of beautiful, they’re still using that word. And we can't ALL be beautiful or else the word would have no meaning. But we
act like that’s a flaw. Or at least in
my brain, some part of ME thinks that’s a flaw.
Oh, this is not a Real Problem, I know it. (Believe me, I have plenty of those.) It’s just on my mind.
Most days I try not to think about it at all. I still avoid mirrors. I used to avoid them because they made me
feel bad about myself. Now I avoid them
because they are confusing, and because then I end up giving brain space to
thoughts like those I’ve shared here.
So losing massive amounts of weight = not necessarily life
changing. But some stuff HAS changed. Like this:
- I can buy clothes without worrying too much about if they’re going to make me look fat, and by that I mean, display my fat rolls in various unflattering ways.
- I can buy clothes from any store I want. I could conceivably go shopping with my friends without feeling dumb that I can't fit into the clothes at that store. (Not that I have. I’ve mostly been buying my clothes from thrift stores until I’m sure that I’m at my final size.)
- Sales clerks are much nicer to me. So much so that I often feel offended on behalf of my former self. RUDE.
- People (men AND women) talk to me in elevators, in line, etc.,which freaks me out every time. I’m used to being invisible. People don’t always like to look at fat people. Sometimes they look away, in the same way that they look away from people with a disability. (No, I’m not comparing the two, I’m just saying that people are shallow.) I am finding that I do not always like feeling visible. I do not always like being seen.
- Men are nicer to me in general. They not only open doors (they always did) but they smile, make eye contact and occasionally start up conversations. I can’t attribute this to increased self confidence, because I don’t really have increased self confidence. I don’t think this is because I’m irresistibly hot and they’re trying to pick me up. I think I just look more pleasant now, more approachable. Something like that.
- I got a promotion and a raise at work. Even though I’m doing the exact same work. Literally, they just gave me the promotion and raise and said, “just keep doing what you’re doing.” Suddenly I was more valuable to the team. Should I attribute that to my weight loss or to the fact that I’m a great tech writer? I can’t entirely write off the weight loss angle - especially after two different software developers said something to the effect of “it’s nice to have a cute girl on the team.” (I will just let you digest the various ways in which that sentence is simultaneously disturbing and flattering.)
- I do like the way that, when I meet someone new, I am not automatically trying to make up for my size. Unless you have been fat with poor self esteem you will not understand this, but when I was fatter I always felt as though, when I met someone new (a potential friend, a new co-worker, etc.), that I had to prove that I was worth knowing, despite being fat. Because they could immediately see two of my biggest character flaws (gluttony and laziness with a side of eating disorder thrown in for good measure) written all over my body. Hi, nice to meet you, here are my flaws, let’s be friends. I felt like I had to make up for it. (And let me tell you, if there is a better way to ensure that you will not act natural and normal, I don’t know what it is.) Other people, when you meet them, there is nothing written on them that necessarily tells a story, like “I’m an alcoholic” or “I will stab you in the back any day of the week.” Now I don’t feel like I have that automatic deficit going on, so I don’t feel as insecure when meeting people. Take me or leave me. Like me or don’t. But you’re going to do it based on something other than my size.
- I am healthier. We did quite a bit of hiking and stuff this summer and it was so much easier to keep up. I do feel a lot better. I can be physically active with my family without feeling exhausted.
- Food is not such a focus anymore. I’m having to actually deal with my emotions instead of eating them. If you’d asked me before if I was an emotional eater, I would’ve said no, that I just really liked food. But now that I can’t eat a lot of the things I ate before I’ve realized how much I relied on food as a crutch. I get mad more often, because I’m not just swallowing back my feelings. This is not my husband’s favorite part of the whole deal, to be sure.
All of these things probably point more to self esteem
issues than anything else, I realize this.
But they are what they are.
What do you think? Can anyone relate, at all? Any advice? Any thoughts?
What do you think? Can anyone relate, at all? Any advice? Any thoughts?
(My gosh, I’m SO SERIOUS TODAY, I can hardly stand myself.)
