Ms Green Jeans
7/2/11 19:29![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
While I dawdle on a plateau as far as the scale is concerned, my clothes seem to indicate that I'm still heading steadily down the slope.
Last night I laid out several outfits from the back of my closet, then pressed everything neatly and put it all away, figuring that in another month or so I'd fit into most of it, and could photograph the clothes then.
On a crazy whim this morning, I thought I'd just try on one of the pairs of jeans.
They not only fit, but were already too big.
This stunned me so much that I couldn't talk myself out of wearing them to work even though they are, admittedly, rather ugly. (Seriously: avocado green jeans. I shouldn't have. Really.) The only reason I've hung onto them is that they Represent Something--the last good moment before my life went to hell in 2006.
These green jeans have been hanging in the back of my closet for five years saying, "Look, accept facts: you're never going to fit into me again, so just give me away and move on," while I said, "Noooooo! No! I want you! I hug you! I keep you! A tortured hope!"
And suddenly, in one day, they're saying, "Look, accept facts: you're never going to fit into me again, so just give me away and move on," on the other side of that divide. And oddly enough, part of me is still saying, "Noooooo!"
It's the strangest feeling! I've invested a lot in these ugly avocado green jeans over the last five years, and it never crossed my mind that I might actually become too small for them. I just wanted to fit into them again. Now, after one wearing, they're goin' in the donation bag.
Within another ten pounds, I will have entered body-size territory that I have never steadily inhabited. I passed through that country in my early 30s, and returned twice for flying visits before ballooning up again in bewilderment.
By the time I reach the end of this diet, I will be in territory that I set out from when refrigerators were avocado green. I have no adult frame of reference for life in that world at all.
It's very strange to think that nothing in my closet--perhaps not even shoes--will still fit me by then.
Last night I laid out several outfits from the back of my closet, then pressed everything neatly and put it all away, figuring that in another month or so I'd fit into most of it, and could photograph the clothes then.
On a crazy whim this morning, I thought I'd just try on one of the pairs of jeans.
They not only fit, but were already too big.
This stunned me so much that I couldn't talk myself out of wearing them to work even though they are, admittedly, rather ugly. (Seriously: avocado green jeans. I shouldn't have. Really.) The only reason I've hung onto them is that they Represent Something--the last good moment before my life went to hell in 2006.
These green jeans have been hanging in the back of my closet for five years saying, "Look, accept facts: you're never going to fit into me again, so just give me away and move on," while I said, "Noooooo! No! I want you! I hug you! I keep you! A tortured hope!"
And suddenly, in one day, they're saying, "Look, accept facts: you're never going to fit into me again, so just give me away and move on," on the other side of that divide. And oddly enough, part of me is still saying, "Noooooo!"
It's the strangest feeling! I've invested a lot in these ugly avocado green jeans over the last five years, and it never crossed my mind that I might actually become too small for them. I just wanted to fit into them again. Now, after one wearing, they're goin' in the donation bag.
Within another ten pounds, I will have entered body-size territory that I have never steadily inhabited. I passed through that country in my early 30s, and returned twice for flying visits before ballooning up again in bewilderment.
By the time I reach the end of this diet, I will be in territory that I set out from when refrigerators were avocado green. I have no adult frame of reference for life in that world at all.
It's very strange to think that nothing in my closet--perhaps not even shoes--will still fit me by then.
(no subject)
10/2/11 10:11 (UTC)The only change I have noticed is that the people in my dance side don't ask me if I'm feeling OK or whether I need a break any more. (Sometimes I do - so this is a disadvantage!)
OTOH, I'm privately much happier with how I look and how much energy I have - even though, for me, it is only 'a bit more'. That may be because I've lost weight but haven't added any exercise, so you're getting thinner and fitter, while I'm only getting thinner.
(no subject)
10/2/11 23:46 (UTC)The word "privately" here really nails it for me. That's the key I was looking for, in the face of a good deal of questioning about the purpose and value of weight loss. To be "privately much happier with how I look," it seems to me, is a perfectly adequate, perfectly complete answer to that question.
What's astonishing is that I didn't think of it! So thank you very much for providing it.
(no subject)
11/2/11 09:12 (UTC)In the end I think it has to come down to whether you're happier or not. I don't think it's feminist to shame women into being fat any more than it is to shame them into being thin. And I don't think it's anti-feminist to say "I've *been* fat against the wishes of society. So society hasn't shamed me into this - I've done it because I want to."
It should be up to everyone to decide what level of weight and fitness they want to maintain, I think. If they like themselves as they are or are becoming something they like, then that's all good. (Bar the extremes of anorexia or the kind of obesity where you're unable to get up and walk around.)
(no subject)
11/2/11 18:48 (UTC)There are so many years and so much shame between my current self and whatever thinner self once existed as a teenager, that I couldn't begin to tease the strands apart at this late date. Have I been shamed into losing weight? I no longer know. I just know that the effort involved in losing the weight is actually less than the effort required to accept myself and be "happy" in my obesity. I know. I've tried both.
I suppose that's the very definition of selling out, isn't it? Oh well. It's my body and no one else's.
Thanks again for the excellent insights.
(no subject)
11/2/11 19:15 (UTC)To sum up, I don't think you're selling out at all. I think you've just reached the point of going "I've heard all the arguments from both sides, and now I have decided to do with my own body what I want to do."
It sounds like liberation to me :)
(no subject)
11/2/11 19:37 (UTC)Thanks again.