Tuesday, May 22, 2007

The body

I've lost a lot of weight in the past few years. I've done it the right way – I’ve modified my eating habits and I’ve set and am sticking to a viable exercise routine (funny how it no longer feels like a routine but a lifestyle; lacing up runners now signals ‘morning’ to me). I'm pleased and proud, not of my appearance per se, but of how my body feels – strong and fit and capable. The extent of this change has never been that apparent to me, yet I know it must be visible when I run into people I haven’t seen in awhile and they comment on how I look. I know it must be real when I grab an old favourite out of the closet only to have it slide off as it tries to rest on hips that aren’t there anymore.
But the inner changes are taking more time. In my mind’s eye I'm still the fat chick that reassured herself about her personality. There are times when I don’t recognize what I see in the mirror. Shopping the other day, I realized my brain hasn’t caught up with my body – I reached for my usual size of pants, then optimistically grabbed for the next size down. I walked to the changeroom, preparing myself for the inevitable suck-in-the-gut and resolve-to-lay-off-the-chocolate moment of struggling with the top button. And pair after pair of pants balanced precariously at the bottom of my hips, inches of material pooled unflatteringly around my bum. Back at the racks, I stared at the pants in a size I haven’t worn since highschool and started to shake. I realized I don’t know my body anymore – this body that wears single-digit pants, smaller cup sizes, mediums instead of larges. It was unnerving.
So I went and bought a pair of shoes instead. That size hasn’t changed.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home