What They Don't Tell You About (Weight) Loss

Four weeks ago, I bought this cool black, tuxedo style blouse for my work wardrobe. It was the same size that I always buy, but something a little different in style. I figured that it’d be a great addition to my closet. I didn’t even bother to try it on...I’d been shopping at this store for years. But, when I got it home, I realized that because of the cut, it didn’t fit! In a fit of frustration, I set it aside hoping that I could come back to it later.

Last week, I was running late to work for an early morning meeting. I really didn’t have time to iron anything. Then I saw the abandoned blouse hanging on the door of my guest bedroom. Glancing at the clock, I figured “Why the hell not?” And put it on.

Not only did it fit, I actually didn’t recoil from the image in the mirror. Honestly? I thought I looked really good. Hell, I couldn’t leave the mirror for about two minutes. The Buddha-ness of my belly? Hidden by the silhouette…and about five pounds smaller looking. My waist? More defined by the curve-hugging blouse. This was definitely something slimmer fitting than I normally wear. It took about four of my work girlfriends to convince me that I didn’t look like I was in a sausage casing and that the image I saw in the mirror was definitely not a mirage.

OH HOLY CRAP. I’M LOSING WEIGHT. Now what?

I never expected to say this: I’m kind of freaked out that I’m losing weight.

No one told me it was going to be this way. I’ve just been concentrating with keeping up the routine. I knew the weight loss was a natural and logical progression of becoming healthier. But I assumed that when the weight came off, not much would change except the physical.

Dammit. I was wrong! Sure I was happy about the fact that I fit into the blouse. But then I started to think. My body was changing. All of a sudden, the options that were closed to me being a Girl of Substance were seemingly within reach. It dawned on me that in a matter of six to ten months, I might be able to shop ANYWHERE, rather than the handful of shops that sell my size and style. It scares the crap out of me.

And the funniest part? I’m not alone. My little corner of the office has three of us on the health kick trail. Each of us has our goals and we’re supporting each other. This is totally cool because I can bounce off silly thoughts like this. Before I lost my mind, I asked the girls if this was normal. Thankfully, one of them said yes. My cubicle neighbor told me that she thought it was going to be weird when she reached her goal weight and wearing clothes in a smaller size than she’s used to. It was a relief to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

I guess the thing that scares me is that it’s both unknown and its change. As some of you might already know, I didn’t have the healthiest of self-esteems growing up. I could be confident, but deep down inside, I believed a little bit in the barbs about my looks and weight. In my head, I refused to get moving on getting healthy because it felt too much like I was going to do it for someone else.

But now that I’m doing it for ME…I realize that I’m making myself happy. It’s simply mind bending to me that that’s even possible. Little old me is actually becoming a”littler” me. However, I’ve always been the fat kid. Being a slimmer and fitter Lily just didn’t jive with the image. In the words of my favorite Sicilian, the whole thought was “Inconceivable!”

Is it also possible that I’ve gotten so used to my size that I am afraid to part with it? Right now I’m having a hard time imagining myself skinnier. I just don’t see it yet. But the proof is right there in the clothing, so how can I deny it? I feel out of my comfort zone when I realize that I’m three sizes away from my ultimate goal. My mind shuts down when people tell me that I’m looking better with every passing week. How screwed up IS THAT?!?!?

After a few days of a private freak out, I’ve come to terms with the fact that slowly but surely, I’m getting smaller. I’m not sure how I’ll feel as the dress sizes start to change and I get closer to my goal. But it’s okay. I’ll figure it out. In the meantime…it is kind of cool that I have a new “go to” outfit in my wardrobe. Last night, I was shopping for a new little black dress for my trip to Las Vegas in May. The way I’m going, my current black dress will be hanging off of me.

Its inertia, you know? I can’t stop now. And it’d be stupid to let this fear take over me. So, I’ll keep plugging away. And like everything else that comes my way in life, I’ll just have to get over it. Because seriously…why should I be scared of my own happiness?