Of Body Images and The Mirror Must Be Broken

This is going to be a little messed up. Today I am all out of whack, why I have no idea but it is what makes my life a little more interesting (and exhausting).

Earlier I came to the realization that I was running out of hangers. I had a whole bunch of new pants to hang up but I was a few hangers short. This was odd, so I called Mr. Mustard into the bedroom and asked if we had more in the basement waiting in the wings for their chance to be used for their glorious purpose. He said sure but why not just take all the clothes that are too big for me out of the closet and use those hangers. I just kind of stared at him blankly and asked him what on earth he meant and he pointed at the clothes I had pushed to the back because they literally fall off me due to my major weight loss. Panic set it. No no no, this was too fast. Just a few weeks ago those pants fit me! Three weeks ago those pants were a perfect fit! In fact those were my every day get stuff done pants! I threw those on when I had to run out of the house and needed to look like I owned clothes! And now my faithful companion was shoved to the back and living in the dark as if I was ashamed to admit I once wore them. Well I was….and I am. I started the task of removing all of the clothes, one by one I took them off the hangers and put the empty hangers on the bed in a pile. The clothes I folded and placed on the bed. I knew where I got each shirt, each pair of pants, each skirt. I remember how I felt so pretty when I was finally able to wear a skirt that didn’t have elastic around the waist. That first elastic free skirt was now sitting in a pile of discarded clothes destined for an uncertain future. When I was done I carefully hung my new clothes up. The ones that were a size or two too small that I will probably fit in a few weeks towards the back and the ones that fit me right now in the front. I carefully fingered the frilly new tops I bought that at the time of purchase were slightly too snug and my goal when buying them was to fit them by summer. Now they are flowing and almost too big for me and it’s almost March.

Mr. Mustard came back in to check on my progress just as I panicked and began to do the inevitable. I began to cry. When I looked in the mirror I still saw fat me. I didn’t and I don’t see a smaller me. My size tag says something totally different than that but to me I will always be the fat chick. I will always feel as though people are watching me eat or commenting on anything I put into my mouth. At the end of this month I enter phase three of this diet and that is when I become a nervous wreck because I introduce foods like eggs and cheese and coconut flour. I like my comfort zone right now, it’s a strict regime of certain meats at certain weights and certain veggies at certain weights and water. I feel safe and secure, no deviation I know exactly what I am supposed to do. Today I wanted to chew my arm off and eat everything I saw, uncharacteristic of me. Maybe I have a big drop coming and my body is begging for more calories to burn. Well sorry body, you can burn that damn box of Girl Scout cookies you ate back in 2008, hope those Thin Mints tasted good.

Back to my clothes. Mr. Mustard came back in just in time to see me crying. He knew what was wrong and wrapped his arms around my waist and asked me if I noticed anything different. I shook my head and that was when I realized he had wrapped his hands around me, and they overlapped. I had to smile. That I could feel and not deny or brush off as my imagination. It was real. Some day my eyes will stop playing tricks on me. My old clothes are now rehomed with a friend who needed clothes badly during her job seeking. I’m happy someone could use them and they weren’t just tossed. As for my faithful old jeans…they are still there in the back of my closet. They are a reminder of my past and of Never Ever Again.

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