Confessions...

I used to hate shopping. I’m not sure there are too many fat girls that love shopping. It’s a bit of a double-edged sword when you’re not sure if you’ll still be pulling the same size off the rack or whether you’ll be able to afford it. While I appreciated the niche market catering to plus sized women, I didn’t appreciate paying double the price.

About two months ago I realized I had moved past the plus sized store. It’s a whole new world, I tell ya. As far as I can tell, I’m rediscovering the Orient and an unending supply of teas and spices and fabrics.

It’s exciting, a little exhilarating, and emotional. I’ve done my share fair of crying in fitting rooms. Apparently I’m not done yet.

It’s not even that this is the smallest I’ve ever been. It’s not, by any means. But it’s different this time. This weight loss journey is different. I’m different.

Years ago (maybe 11 or 12 years) I was following a Weight Watchers plan and rocking it. I probably lost about thirty pounds total before I slammed into The Wall. The Wall in that instance was a comment from the friend: upon seeing my weight loss ribbons posted proudly on the fridge, he asked whether I had to give the ribbons back when I gained the weight back. I remember managing a nice, casual comeback. Maybe I just kicked him in the shin. Either way, his comment slammed me with a myth that I believed as truth: I was kidding myself.

I’ve done the weight loss yo-yo; it’s defined most of my life. From the times where I dreamed that only Skinny = Happy to the moments where I convinced myself I accepted myself I was: rolls, pudge and all; from the highs of rapid weight loss to the slow suffocating shame as the scale climbed back up again, it was like running on hamster’s wheel. Round and round and round with no hope for real or lasting change.

You know lasting change when you see it… it pretty much knocks your socks off with how much hard work it is to attain it. It’s pretty overwhelming how much baggage-slinging-self-forgiving-realism-embracing-learning-to-love-yourself-while-rediscovering-life-and-joy-and-so-much-more work it is. There is a different lightness that comes with shedding that emotional weight; a new confidence that makes standing in a fitting room in a regular sized store with a friend who’s been-there-done-that and a massive pile of beautiful clothes that fit and look good pretty tear-worthy.

Every other weight loss experience in my repetoire is still lined with a strong, pulsing silent fear: I'll gain it back. It won't stick. This feeling right now is a fleeting, temporary dream.

Not this time.

I still have a Curves tee-shirt that I got years ago and doesn’t fit anymore. On it are the words: ‘Blessed, beautiful, loved, happy’.

Got that right.