Smoke and Mirrors

As of today the scale reads I am down 29lbs. since my LapBand consultation, and 23lbs since surgery. Those numbers, while not to be taken lightly, are a drop in the bucket to the 71lbs I have remaining until I get to my goal weight.

While I have enjoyed the numbers on the scale going in the downward spiral, my eyes have had a tougher time adjusting to the change. I can see the numbers on the scale, but can't really tell anywhere else. Yes, I realize I can no longer fit into my maternity clothes (insert dance here), and I know I have to keep pulling my pants up when I walk. I am happy to report that I can button up my denim jacket from top to bottom, something I have not done since I have owned it.

A week ago, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought, "maybe my clothes are getting a little too big for me." I asked Tim his opinion to which he replied "you look like you are five years old playing in your mother's clothes."

So last week, I did the unthinkable. While taking the kids to see the Easter Bunny and get the cheesey pictures taken, I found the Lane Bryant store.

I went to the rack and pulled two outfits. One in the size I wore prior to surgery (yes, I am going to divulge the size. I am doing this not to put my business out on Front Street as the saying goes, but to reiterate to myself that I am not defined by my clothing size. It does not make me a bad person, a lazy person, or an uneducated person who can't read a food label. It makes me determined never to see the size again.)

I picked up a shirt and a pair of paints size 18/20 as well as a size 16 pants and a 14/16 shirt.

Before I went to the dressing room I asked Tim to be brutally honest because, despite my having two eyes that work relatively well (as long as I have on my glasses) I really could not tell what was too big or not on me. He promised to be honest and off to the dressing I room I went with clothes of varying sizes and Nala jumping up and down behind me.

I tried on the size I had come to know so well.

When I showed Tim he said I looked ridiculous. They were too big.

I tried on the smaller size thinking the entire time there was no way I was going to fit into these clothes without a fight.. The pants fit. I could button the pants and not suck in my tummy to do it. The shirt was not too large, but it wasn't too small. I could lift up my arms and it it didn't raise up to show my tummy.

And even as I knew the sizes I could now wear were smaller than the previous one, I still couldn't really see the difference. I never understood people who said that after they lost weight, they still felt fat. What a crock! I would exclaim judgementally. How do you go from a size 18 to a size 4 and not see the difference?

Now I know.

The sad part is, I have lived in this body for so long, I don't remember what I looked like, or even really felt like when I was thinner. I see pictures of myself when I was in high school and I am amazed. I thought I was so fat back then, and now I would give someone's left arm to look like that.

I realize I can not visualize myself 70lbs. lighter than I am today. To try and do so is daunting to me, overwhelming even, and makes me want to eat. Why? Because those 29lbs. that have since gone by the way side were not comfortable for me, but familiar.

I knew what to expect from my body. I knew what I was going to look like in my jeans and oversized shirt. I knew that I could comfortably be invisible to those around me when I wanted to be.

Now, with my cheek bones beginning to show, the dimple in my chin making a reappearance, and the scale only two pounds away from "Onederland" my constants are becoming not so constant anymore.

As much as I want this new body, both inside and out, I must admit that its scary to me.

I am afraid that somehow, I will not be Mikki anymore. Somehow, people will really see me and actually listen to what I have to say and my weight is no longer something by which I will be judged. The judgement will then be of me. No buffers.

I have encountered this fear before, in varying degrees. Usually, its the fear of failure that keeps me from moving forward. So what makes this time different?

I would like to say I have some brilliant answer to this question, something that will assure me success in my journey. I don't. I can point out how very different my life is now. Since traveling down this road a time or two, I have added a few more titles to my name;wife to Tim, mom to Nala and Max. I have dropped the title of the traditional working woman. During this journey something amazing happened in that the more I gave of Mikki, instead of their being less of me I inexplicably found more.

I have discovered more of who I am and how I choose to define me.

I am reminded of the quote that states "many a false step has been made by standing still." I no longer want to stand still. I feel that I can not make a false step as long as i am moving SOMEWHERE in this journey.

Therefore, I will not be afraid of stepping on the scale and seeing the numbers go down. I will rejoice in every pound lost, every time I can pull on my pants without unbuttoning them. I will do the happy dance when I can twirl around to the music while holding both of my kids little longer each day. I will smile on the outside when I can make it up two flights of steps to see Elmo Live carrying Max and not get winded, and challenge my husband in basketball because I really do think I can beat him.

This journey is one day at a time.

Today, I will not seek the buffer. Today I will believe what I see in the mirror. I will believe the scale is not broken.

Today, I will be fearless. And tomorrow I will be, too.

Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl

Mikki