Monday, July 20, 2015

Seeing the Big Picture

I posted this assortment of pictures to Instragram the other day (I'm lauriebaseball there, too).

The scale has been stuck on -- or a more accurate term -- bobbling between -- 189.6, 190.4, 189.8, 190.6 and so I decided to break down Friday morning and try on my size 10 jeans. Just to see if I could have a positive moment on something not scale-related.

They were tight, but not too tight to wear in public. It was a victory. These jeans, which fit me so perfectly at 180, two years ago; these jeans, which did not fit me at all last year in the mid-180s…these jeans fit me now. Even heavier, because my body is changing back to what it once was. What it once was in a good way.

To take a step back and stop thinking about the numbers, which are literally within 10 pounds of each other, I dug out some pictures from college. That put is all in perspective.

Am I happy at 190? Seeing what I once looked like when I topped the scales at 252, I am not only happy, I'm proud of myself. I don't even know who that person is on the left in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

It will always be a struggle, I will always have to watch what I eat, and exercise will always need to be my friend, but I will never go back to where I was. And I have to recognize the level of health (not to mention happiness) -- and probably a good number of extra years -- I've given myself.

I will never be a size 2. And quite frankly I don't want to be. I am a curvy girl, with a great rack. I don't want to lose that. But I don't have to be a 22.Depending on the style, the manufacturer and the actual item, I am anywhere from a 10 to a 14, mostly landing in 12-land.

And as someone who used to wear size 22 as her regular size, 12 is just fine with me.

I visited a friend in Baltimore yesterday. And while I've seen her more recently than five years ago, I hadn't seen her kids since 2010. We recreated a picture from the last time I was there. They weren't the only ones who have changed in those five years.

I remember this period of my life. I remember that  I was at a weight I wasn't thrilled with, but I also remember thinking that I looked OK.

And then I see this and think, "oh my god."

I was on year two of fertility treatment and my body was full of hormones and drugs; my emotions were a roller coaster and I'm sure my eating mimicked them.

I posted this picture to Facebook and a former colleague wrote:

"5 years looks great on you."

Ever the self-depracating fool who can't just say thank you, I responded: "Lots of fertility drugs in 2010, lots of sweating in 2015."

She wasn't going to let me off easy. "Not to take anything away from the sweating, but inner peace has a lot to do with it too. I'm so glad to see you happy."

The lesson? The point of this post? I think I need to try to remember that the scale, the numbers, the exercise -- they can't fully define me as they have been. As Amy correctly pointed out, I look good because I'm happy, because I like where I am in my life. And while a lot of that has to do with how healthy I am, it also has to do with where I am -- what I have, what I've achieved -- in my life.

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