I've had this one button-down shirt for a good ten years -- I like it almost as much as I hate shopping. When I first bought it, it was snug. I could barely button it all the way up, but I intended to wear it half-buttoned over a tank top anyway (it was a *look*, okay?).
As the years went on, it got tighter -- or more specifically, I got bigger. And finally, I had to retire the shirt to the back of my closet, where I hoped I would someday be able to recover it, along with my health and my pride.
When I dug it out a few months ago, during a mid-winter cleaning, I didn't dwell much on it. "I love this shirt!" I thought, willfully ignoring my creeping fear it still wouldn't fit.
A word about my weight loss: after a series of trying and failing and regaining and trying and becoming obsessive and an ancient history of disordered eating, I had decided to try something new this time -- I don't track calories. Not in the "I just make sure I eat *healthy*" or the "I'm in total denial about my diet" way, but in the "I generally keep track of calories in my head and I might quickly Google a rough calorie count before a fancy dinner, but I don't record them anywhere and I don't have a log I can obsess over " way.
I also don't weigh myself, which still takes some getting used to -- it forces me to be accountable for what I ate, because the scale won't tell me the truth. I feel like less of a slave to a number, but sometimes it's hard to feel confident in my weight loss. (*I think this dress used to be tighter. Did it stretch out or did I lose weight?*) Sometimes I catch myself in the mirror, surprised, and for a rare fleeting moment see how my face and body have changed.
I'm currently going through a period where I'm a bit insecure about it all. It's hard for me to see the changes I recognize are happening (I know my cheekbones are more prominent because now I suddenly understand where contouring is supposed to go; I know my wrists are thinner because I had to adjust my FitBit down a notch). I usually look in the mirror, confused and frustrated as to why I'm still fat.
Today I put on that old button-down, as I have many times before, but this time I realized something. Buttoning it up, I looked down -- and through the neck of my shirt, could see the floor. I finished buttoning it, and gathered the extra fabric -- entire inches -- in front of me. It was clearly too big on me. This shirt that barely fit when I bought it, that got banished to the back of my closet when I gained weight, is too big.
Looking in the mirror, I still don't see a difference, but the shirt doesn't lie. Have any of you had an experience like this?
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