In a year I lost some weight. My family kept telling me how much smaller I was and how different I looked. I just didn’t see it. My measurements shrank significantly, but I just couldn’t see it.
I hit one year the second week of February and decided to finally wear an outfit I hadn’t worn since I was at my heaviest weight, it was one of few I had a picture of at my heaviest too.
I remember being terrified to put the pants on and telling myself they’d probably still be a bit fitted, but that’s okay. You worked hard this past year and it’s paid off, even though you’re not that much smaller. I pulled them on, they were loose. I sobbed briefly.
I put the top on and looked at myself in the mirror. The change was drastic. Even though I looked at myself every single day I suddenly couldn’t recognize myself or my body. It was jarring and I cried for several minutes. I was scared and confused. I loved my body at my heaviest and still loved it. I didn’t think I looked bad, I just couldn’t process what I was seeing.
I took pictures, changed clothes, looked at the pictures and told myself “it’s just camera tricks, I’ll look normal again tomorrow..” which makes no fucking sense.
No one in my life really gets how upsetting that experience was, so I guess I just wanted to vent. I’m still losing weight. I’m proud of myself. That experience was just.. so very unpleasant.
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