To be honest, its not my most favourite of things, to spend Sunday afternoon having my breasts manhandled by an aging matron. But I now have two new lacy bras that are a couple of cup sizes smaller than the last fitting (given my previous cup size was ‘Good God!’ my back is very thankful). And half an hour later I pulled on 32 inch ‘sexy boot-cut’ jeans at the Gap. I can fit jeans from the Gap! That are Sexy!
Dearest bloggy reader, I almost wept with all the awesome.
Spurned by this most momentous of events, I decided yesterday afternoon, that the time had come to actually BELIEVE that my body has changed. Almost 30 kilos have kinetically, chemistarily metamorphosed off my shape in the last two years, leaving me at a happy and comfortable size UK12-14/US8-10. Without much effort I am continuing to shrink very slowly, I trust that my body will find its happy place.
But opening my wardrobe to find a load of clothes that are too big for me, was beginning to feel like I was waiting for this to end. For the time when I return to the place of unconsciously unloving myself.
So in less than half an hour I threw into a bag: old grey knickers, several too-big bras, over-sized shirts and comfy pants, several maxi-dresses, and three pairs of jeans (with holes where the tops of my thighs rubbed together). I remembered the process of buying some items. Of standing in the changing room mirror and thinking is this ok? Are all the parts of me that I don’t like hidden? Sometimes I was so grateful for getting the damn thing over my head and down my body, I would buy it (which explains the scary green frock that was never worn).
These days I enter a changing room with a deep love for my body. I refuse to be intimidated by snooty salespeople, or their ridiculous non-standard sizing methods that can sometimes feel like a conspiracy run by the 8% of the population that conform. I ask myself: does it suit me? Do I feel sexy in this? Does it tell you who I am?
It was such a relief to put everything that no longer fits my new life into a big black bag, I think I also threw out most of my doubts and anxieties about the permanence of this new size.
Sometimes Mr P says ‘you look lovely’ as we leave for work in the morning. And this makes my heart swell.