Dress for Success: Hand me down fat clothes

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During my weight loss journey, I’ve tried not to be offended when my skinny friends offered the use of their pregnancy clothes as my waist shrunk.  I know they meant well, but still. Here I’m losing weight and need smaller pants, and the ones that are going to fit are the ones you wore when you claimed to be the size of a whale. So when I wore their pants, I too felt like a whale too.

Recently, I had a different experience with it. One of my best friends and fitness mentor got married. The stress of the event caused her to shrink to practically nothing. When I was losing weight and taking her class, I always thought she was the tiniest and cutest thing I had ever seen. In my head I would say, If only I could get that skinny. 

Flash forward to last weekend. She gave me a sackful of pants that no longer fit her. She’s like a size 0 now. (I try not to hate her on principle) When other friends had handed me their “big” clothes, I had mixed feelings about it. One hand smaller, yay! Other hand, you’re still wearing someone else’s hand me down fat clothes.

This time I was thinking my friend was on crack. She’s never been fat. Ever. These are not her fat pants, these are her not “stick thin” pants. These were the pants that my skinny little friend wore all while teaching my body blast classes. And I was sure that there was no way in hell that I was going to fit into them.

You might remember last Wednesday a little post called Mirror Image. If not, look it up. Anyway, I talked about having trouble seeing a difference in the mirror. Trying on her pants was a wake up call. I had admired my friend less than a year ago in these brown cords. The same ones that I had wrapped around my butt right now. That’s right, they actually fit.

The whole sackful of pants did, except the size 2, and those might fit on one leg.

I had been so sure that they couldn’t fit. Because that would mean I was roughly the same size as someone I thought looked hot, and I couldn’t see myself that way. But the proof is the sugar free pudding.

The stories behind the clothes we wear color our own perspective. If you’re wearing your once a month pants with the drawstring, chances are you feel like you look bloated, even if you’re don’t. Like most things in life, I think “sexy” starts somewhere inside. Looking back, I wish I had felt every bit as proud in my friend’s hand me down pregnant fat clothes. I was still getting smaller, still looking great. But the label I thought I was wearing prevented me from seeing it.

Mirror Image

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I decided to hijack my own blog. I’m taking over Dress for Success. Why? Because it’s my blog and I can do what I want.

Really though, its because sometimes I want to share more of me and less of the how to. Sometimes I just want to have an honest discussion about something. And today’s discussion would be what I see when I stand in front of the mirror.

I see lumps and bumps and flaps of skin. Sags here, old stretch marks there. I see flaws that can be tucked, squished, or camouflaged by a well made pair of jeans. I’m absolutely positive that if anyone saw me in the buff, they would run screaming.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall, who’s the fairest of them all? I can say unequivocally that I have never once thought it was me. Not when I was fat, not now that I’m un-fat.

In the rational part of my head I know that I’m ok being exactly who I am. But the emotional part of my head feels differently. I’ve lost 75 pounds. My pant size has shrunk from 16/18 to 4/6. The evidence all points to the fact that I should be happy and ecstatic with how I look. And maybe half the time I am. But the other half, including in front of the mirror, I still wish I was different. There will always be something that can be smaller, tighter, and um… higher.

The problem is absolutely not with my body, it’s in my brain. And even though I have made great strides in my life, it takes a long time to overcome 30 years of bad self-imagery.  I always had a number in my head. And if only I could reach that number on the scale, then I would be happy. Pretty.

In case you haven’t guessed, there is no magic number. How often have we heard celebrity stories of plastic surgery gone awry? They had something nipped or sculpted, hoping to feel better, but they are still the same person underneath. If we feel unworthy, it has a lot less to do with the outside, than what we are feeling on the inside. Even supermodels look in the mirror and cringe.

I don’t have the answer. I just wanted to share, because this is something that I still struggle with. And you know what, it’s ok to struggle. The word indicates a fight. I’m fighting to feel better about my body and myself as a person. It’s not a fight I’m going to win in the gym by toning up to 2% body fat. It will be a battle of wills to retrain the way I think about beauty and worth.

Today it starts with looking in the mirror and finding one thing I absolutely love. It’s my collarbone. I’m not going to let my eyes or thoughts wander any further down.

Baby steps. It’s a process.