MsCathyV
6 weeks out
Feb 24, 2009
Okay . . . so I simply had to get some new slacks. Even my "skinny" jeans were starting to bag and sag. For the past 3 weeks I've pulled my slacks down to go potty without unzipping/snapping, like they were elastic waist but they weren't.
So I went shopping. For those of us that are used to going to the far side of the clothes rack, even stopping to ponder the middle of the rack (a couple of sizes down) is intimidating. I took a deep breath, looked around to see who was watching and ventured there anyway. I thumbed through the size 22's, the 20's and decided to brave the 18's. What the hell? I was feeling adventuresome. As I walked to the dressing room I found my brain chastising my behavior -- how could I expect to drop this far from my usual 24/26's? I dropped my gaze like a criminal so as not to make eye contact with anyone and continued toward the dressing room. Once there, I stood for a brief moment staring at the slacks on the hanger, as if they were going to speak to me or someone beyond the walls of the fitting booth would start laughing. Once I realized I was there all alone, I took another deep breath and started trying them on. As I pulled them up over my thighs, I realized there was no strain. When I pulled the waistband together in the front and hooked the closure, zipped the zipper, I realized I was holding them a good 1 - 1 1/2" away from my skin! COULD THIS BE POSSIBLE?? Assuming it was a fluke but not sure what else to do, I returned them to the hanger and returned to the sales floor. I then took a leap of faith and grabbed a pair of size 16's from the rack. Now let me say here, for we girls who have spent the bulk of our lives in the chubby category, the size 16 holds a special meaning. 16 is the threshold that moves us from "normal" to "plus size." Few other things communicate the obese status to a woman than moving from the size 16. For instance, you may start to notice that your midriff hangs over your waistband by more than an inch, you may not be able to bend over and tie your shoes without turning blue, you may start to notice your significant other snicker when you disrobe with the lights on . . . but all of that you talk your way out of and ignore. The size 16 is gospel.
Once again, I entered the dressing room. I took note at how much more carefully I placed the size 16's on the hook, almost reverently, as if to convey special respect. After a few minutes, I pulled them over my calves. "Of course that works, I have skinny ankles," I told myself. I pulled them up over my thighs and I felt the fabric brush lightly against the skin there, but there really was no significant resistance. They even slid over my hips and I felt the fabric mold to my hips as I pulled the waistband together. I looped the buttonhole over the button (remember . . . I'm not lying on the bed) and it slid in with great ease. With little convincing, the zipper came up. Before I even looked in the mirror, the entire experience took my breath away. I paused and then looked in the mirror. By golly! They actually fit. I noticed some things too -- the curve at my thigh had straightened out, my tummy looked so much flatter and . . . my butt looked . . . good.
Other events of the past 2 weeks -- I decided that I was now saving close to $400/month on co-pays for insulin (now insulin free) and other meds and groceries (its amazing how long a package of chicken lasts me now). I decided to turn that money around to something that I could enjoy and would benefit, so I bought a new treadmill. Although I only live a couple of blocks from my gym, I find it so handy to be able to jump on the treadmill whenever I want AND in my jammies. All in all, I think I made a wise decision. And besides, I deserve it. :)
