Parts of the Whole

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Honesty

I never thought I had self esteem issues until recently. Since losing weight, I've noticed that dressing to go out is ridiculously hard. Not only because I can pull off all my jeans without unbuttoning them, but because I realized that for the past couple of years, I've avoided anything remotely girly. Apparently being a jeans and t-shirt girl was just another way of saying I'm uncomfortable with my weight.

Lately, every time I go to my closet or my dresser, I'm frustrated that there's a lack of range. For instance, one night Husband's big boss was in town and wanted to take us both out to dinner. I thought that perhaps my Save the Tatas shirt might have been a little inappropriate, so it was time for a wardrobe change. Thirty minutes and half a dozen aggravated screams later, I managed to get dressed.

In all actuality, I used to hate going out, especially after work because that meant I wasn't able to sit around in comfy draw string pajamas, eat vats of ice cream and pass out with Mandie. Going out meant I had to put on clothes that had the potential to show the rolls that were a result of the constant workings of my bread machine and could possibly become tighter if I dared to even think about eating. But when you're married to Mr. Social, you can't avoid going out in public. I also avoided makeup, doing anything with my hair beyond a ponytail and bathing suits. I loathed bathing suits.

I thought I was happy. Happy, go-lucky in fact. Apparently, I'm a big fat liar. I truly believe I was very close to depression, even though outwardly I seemed to have everything I could ever want. A handsome man, darling dogs, a place to lay my head; however, I didn't feel good. I had no energy, felt sick all the time and was often cranky. There were even times that felt like an out of body experience-I reacted in ways to situations that were totally uncharacteristic for me. It was a little scary, as I've always been considered a rather stable personality.

Participating in the Biggest Loser Challenge helped. Having an avenue to channel all my crankiness, anxiety, need to eat the entire contents of the refrigerator was exactly what I needed. I developed new habits, both in the kitchen and in my life. Running has taught me that life isn't about the immediate goal; it's about getting to the end, panting, sweating, wearing ridiculous outfits and knowing that the reward at the end is in direct proportion to the work you put in. I don't mind so much catching a glimpse of my naked body and neither does Husband (as if he ever did *eye roll*). There are still some soft, fleshy areas I wouldn't mind firming up but they no longer define my outerwear. But I should probably invest in some new jeans before I get pantsed in public. Again.



Thought I'd wear my wedding dress again on our anniversary. Wish I had looked this good on the actual day...