Unbelievable Things

For the first time, honestly, I enjoy trying on clothes. Sometimes, if I'm in a store getting necessity items and there's clothes there, I just have to try something on. I have to see what fits. The results are starting to amaze me. I'm still not trained properly. I take in at least two different sizes, sometimes three. I collect the size I used to wear, the size I think I can wear, and the size I don't believe I should be wearing. Usually it's the latter that fits the best. My unsheathed sword to battle the likes of a full length mirror.

I try on things in stores because my clothes at home still aren't up to standard. I have a lot of things that I wear that are still too big. My two new pair of size 10 dress slacks are probably my favorite things right now. They fit. They have room, but they fit and they don't hang off of me like I'm sporting the latest burlap sack. I do have a few tops that fit better now too and I'm very satisfied by that.

Before now, I never took very good care of myself. I mean, I never did anything awful to myself, but I was just sort of negligent. I've always put others needs before myself. I've always molded my expectations of myself to match what other people wanted. I didn't get my hair cut by a professional in the years leading up to my marriage and for the 2 ½ years I was married because my ex husband felt that spending the $14 every 6-8 weeks to maintain my short haircut was a frivolous expenditure and I went along with it to make him happy. I can't remember the last time he told me I was beautiful. I'm sure he had to have at some point. That's how you get the girl, right? What kind of person lets someone who doesn't notice her take her life? My ex husband cut my hair himself. I laughingly referred to it as our monthly “trust” exercise.

One of the first things I did after getting my own apartment was get my hair cut, get my eyebrows waxed for the first time since I met him, and get highlights for the first time ever. I'd dyed my hair and done some crazy things in college, always at home. It was odd. Feeling beautiful.

I started Weight Watchers while married and I was never really sure how he felt about that. We had several ladies in my meetings whose husbands were not a fan of them losing weight. Insecure men afraid that their women would get too attractive and stray. Honestly, I can't understand why they wouldn't want their girl hot. I started going with a good friend and once she stopped going, I could tell that my 7:00 AM wake ups on Saturday morning were not his favorite thing. I hope I extended the invitation for him to join me. He probably wouldn't have wanted to spend the money. I was 30 lbs heavier than I am right now when I left.

I guess the thing that made me go onto this topic isn't actually a change in my weight loss at all, but a change in my behavior as it pertains to my body in general. This past Monday I invested in a Mary Kay skincare regimen. That seems hilarious. It seems strange that I would mark down the desire to take good care of my face as a triumph. But it is. It's finding the self worth that gets buried underneath the desires of everyone else. Hand over hand moving the heavy rocks, revealing that I'm someone, someone I should care about. My trips to the gym; the quiet reflection with headphones in, sweating to the dance party in my head. The 10 minutes in the morning and at night when I'm washing and caring for my face. They are all silent moments of inward reflection. They're my moments. Everyone needs them.

This just further establishes my proclamation that weight loss and healthy eating are personal triumphs. No one can do it for you. You're on the road alone. Some people are just lucky enough to have someone else around who wants to take care of themselves too. How can you care for someone else without taking care of yourself first? I think it's probably impossible, though we all try.

More triumphs. This blog for one. And my other writing. I had some serious poetry writers block for the longest time. Words that used to just run in a stream through my mind and I'd slide my fingers in to the cool water and pull out verses, flipping their punctuation against the glow of the setting sun. They stopped. I couldn't hear the voices anymore. All went silent and black and every time I tried to find something worth saying it would make me colder. Convinced that the part of me that I could actually describe, the most tangible part of my existence, it was gone. And I lived a life that wasn't mine. I slept while something else moved my body.

I'm so awake now that my mind won't stop. There's a place I frequent now and on the way there I can look out over the side of the hill and I see a large lake, littered with little islands and trees and in the distance and the tallest hills I've ever lived around. I see this place and I always make sure to turn my head at the proper time to fully take it in, dangerously while still moving in the car (of course). I have to cover my mouth. I have to quiet my stomach. The words that bubble up in my throat are astounding. The veil is lifted. There's nothing black against these eyes now except when my head is leaned back and I'm staring up at the sky at night. Even that isn't black. There are so many stars here.

Maybe all of this comes from the fact that I can look in the mirror now and be shaken. I can see my progress, though still slowly. I'm getting to know this change in my body. I nearly said “new body.” It isn't new. It's been mine all along but now I've decided to take control back. I have a belly and hips full of battle scars; stretch marks that will never go away. Sometimes I run my fingers over them in the mirror and they remind me of what I wasn't. I wish they could fade but my mind is quick. And there are no memories for me that fade.

I'm being truthful when I say I remember everything. Maybe not my third birthday party. But I remember the anxiety of my first dance recital. I remember the way my hands would shake when I'd play the piano in front of a congregation or the one audition in high school when I absolutely made a fool out of myself and the sting of it feels fresh every time it pops into my head. I remember taking a book to the bathtub in hopes of having my silent moments of inward reflection, uninterrupted by my spouse. I remember thinking that it would be all too easy... just to let my back slide down the incline of the back of the tub. Knowing the silence of ears under water. Knowing it would have been all too easy just to keep breathing.

But this woman I come across, while at the store trying on different sizes of clothes just to see what fits. I haven't seen her since she was a girl. And she sharpens her wit and uses it to cleanly shred the parts of life that I shouldn't embrace. The new, pink skin underneath is tender. But the more I care for it, the easier it'll be to take it out into the sun.

Looking at my weight loss this week, I'm very proud to say I had a pretty normal week. If today hangs on till tomorrow, I'll be down around a pound. This morning was 155.4. That's 5.4 pounds left until I'm satisfied with losing. I'm trying to decide if I want to go for 145, just to give myself a little extra wiggle room. I know that once I get to where I want to be I will need to exercise more. Maybe even learn some weight training. And with muscle comes pounds. If I take it down to 145 I won't be upset when a couple extra pounds of muscle come on the scene.

I'm sitting in front of a pile of tear-filled tissues right now. So happy I could cry. The tears aren't as hot or as painful when they aren't shed for the wrong reasons.