I spent the normal amount of money for a clothes shopping trip, but came back with a lot fewer clothes, and nothing that was actually on my agenda. Sheryl talked me into a pair of jeans from Buckle, and I got two tops and a skirt from Torrid (which is no longer totally Hot Topic for Fat Chicks). Alas, I did not get any more work pants, as the ones I tried on were unbearably frumpy. I also didn’t get any more blouses for work, although I’m thinking that I’ll be fine on that front, once I unearth the cold-weather clothes.
I’m having mixed feelings toward my body right now. Don’t misunderstand: I’m still super geeked about dropping a size, and it’s awesome to be feeling bones in places where only a layer of fat existed before. And to be wearing a wedding ring two sizes smaller than my high school class ring. And to have been able to buy pants at a non-specialty store.
Goddamn, I have a long way to go.
My new low-rise jeans reveal the same paunch that I see on other chicks and say, “Why is she wearing that in public? Doesn’t she know that’s too tight?” My more form-fitting shirts remind me that I most certainly do not yet have anything resembling a flat stomach. I feel like the frumpy girl who’s trying SO HARD to look stylish… and almost succeeding. But not quite.
I know, I know — I’ve lost over 60 pounds total. That’s nothing to sneeze at, as they say. But, Jesus Christ, when am I ever going to be done? How long do I have to consciously be eating to lose weight? When do I get to reap the final reward? When do I get to be a normal fucking human being, instead of feeling like the fat chick?
*does some calculations*
According to my anal-retentive weight-plotting chart, if I keep losing like I have been for the past four months, I should be at my target weight by Valentine’s Day 2009. That makes me feel a lot better, and more focused. I’m almost halfway there!
Push through for another five months, and maybe I’ll have to buy myself a smaller size of too-expensive (but oh-so-stylish) Buckle jeans.