First the disappointing news: the dress arrived yesterday and is going right back. Apparently this line runs VERY small. I’d figured of course it would be too snug at my current weight, but the moment I opened the package and held it up, I knew that short of achieving my mid-twenties-post-divorce-bout-of-anorexia-weight, there was no way that slender garment would ever zip, let alone look right. The size I ordered was supposed to correlate in European sizing to my own, but I couldn’t even get my arm all the way into the sleeve. (I’d guess the fit was actually about two sizes smaller than what I normally wear.) Regarding the dress itself, the fabric is lovely and it seems to be quite well made. Still, I can’t imagine anyone paying the original price of $605; it’s just not that special. So the search continues.
The better news: things are going well with Weight Watchers. After the first week, I passed beyond the hungry-enough-to-gnaw-your-own-arm-off phase, and adjusting my plan to include a good chunk of protein at lunch seems to have vanquished the late afternoon bouts of hypoglycemia I experienced the first few days. I’ve dropped four pounds in about 2½ weeks, and though I know that rate will taper off, it’s enough so that my clothes are fitting less like sausage casings.
In all honesty, it was a relief to finally acknowledge the degree to which this extra weight has been bothering me, and to commit to work on it. (And thanks to all of you who wrote such supportive comments!) I’ve thought a lot about why that was so hard for me to do, despite my frustration and dissatisfaction with my appearance. Ultimately, that reluctance comes from fear. First, I have a lot of good friends who are committed to non-dieting (often as a part of recovery from eating disorders, and my own experience tells me that learning to eat intuitively is absolutely a necessary part of the healing process), and I’ve been afraid of disappointing them by “going over to the Dark Side,” as we used to say. I’ve had many people in my life who have become judgemental, self-righteous and more than a bit obnoxious after losing weight. I was afraid of becoming one of those people. Finally, my own experience of being eating disordered through my teens and twenties, and the way it shrunk my world down to calories, grams and pounds is something I’ve never wanted to repeat. Two decades of food and weight obsession left me with an adversarial relationship with my body and boatloads of free-floating anxiety which took years to overcome. I’ve been afraid of undoing that fragile peace, and reigniting a life-diminishing obsession.
It’s still early in the process, but none of those things I fear seem to have manifested yet. I’m able to go about my day without thinking constantly about what I’ve eaten or when I get to eat next (planning out meals in advance certainly helps with this), and I’m not hopping on and off the scale every hour, or even every day. I’m still committed to seeing beauty in all sizes, and believing that everyone knows for themselves what’s best for their own bodies. I know that my weight is not a measure of my worth. I’m able to eat “real” food, including eating out, and am not feeling deprived or anxious. So far, so good.
Maybe it’s never to late to achieve that sense of bien dans sa peau.
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