I was undercover.
I had spent the better part of a decade in hiding.
I was conveniently cloaked in my disguise, and had carefully crafted an existence where there were very few public sightings of me in my natural habitat.
Similar to the elusive migration of a wild jungle cat, I had roamed quietly on the outskirts of the tree line, and had learned to keep my distance from dangerous predators.
I was adept in the secret art of camouflage. Continue reading The Secret Art of Camouflage
I’ve definitely had to manage and navigate some pretty difficult relationships in my life.
But the most complex and complicated relationship, by far, has always been the one with myself.
It can be hard to find the necessary balance when you are your own worst critic. When you’re dealing with yourself, for instance, you may forget that there are such things as manners. Continue reading Alice in One-derland
It looked so small- that crevice in the rock- that tiny space between the two giant boulders.
I squinted as I sized it up.
I had never made it past this point before. It was what stood between me and the part of this trail that I had never seen. It looked impassable, like a very tight squeeze.
I stood there wondering why they called it “Fat Man’s Pass”, when clearly, a fat man could not pass. Was it supposed to be ironic? Kind of like when you call a fat guy Slim, nickname a big guy Tiny, or refer to a grumpy person as Miss Mary Sunshine? Continue reading Between a Rock and a Hard Place
What would I say to her?
If I could go back in time, and thank her, for getting me here…
What would I say?
What COULD I possibly say, that would be enough?
I’d often wondered.
Four years ago in Philadelphia, I sat on a bed in my hotel room looking at my foot.
It was infected. Continue reading The Time Traveler
It’s never going to be perfect, so keep your sense of humor.
It’s never going to be exactly how you pictured it.
For all intensive purposes, this is a new body. It’s not going to look like it used to look when you were in high school, when you last weighed what you weigh now. It’s a different body. This body has made babies. This body has scars. This body has a birthday suit that doesn’t quite fit anymore, because you stretched it out, and it’s still a little bit too big for the smaller person underneath. It’s wrinkly, and its worn, and has that “lived in look” Continue reading Note to Self
Back before I started Weight Watchers, when I had tried and failed so many times to change my path, I would spend my days dreaming about “someday” being at my goal weight.
I could only imagine what it would feel like, to live in a world where a daunting weight loss was Continue reading Someday
There’s a reason why they call it a weight-loss battle.
Because deciding to commit to a weight-loss journey is a lot like declaring war-
You need to have the mindset from the get go, that you are going to be the victor.
When you go into a war situation (and history will back me up on this), you need to do everything in your power to put the Continue reading The Warrior
Essentially, that’s what it felt like, a uniform.
My go to outfit.
My routine was to go to Walmart (because they were the only store that had a 5X) and find the least hideous thing that would fit me.
All I cared about was being comfortable.
I had a certain idea when looking at a garment whether or not I would find it comfortable. I didn’t like things to cling to me, or pinch, or be too short waisted.
I could tell from looking at something whether or not it was going to work, and I didn’t like to try anything on, because I never liked how any of it ever looked.
So once I found something that wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever seen, I would just buy it in every color in which it was available.
If I found a shirt that fit the bill, I would have five of them.
Same thing with pants. I always had to have an elastic waist.
It was my uniform.
I had given up.
I had no desire to wear make up, or to even to do anything with my hair. I wore my hair in a bun most of the time, and I just made sure that all my clothes were neat and tidy.
I wore the same shirt and the same pants in different color match-ups pretty much everywhere I went.
I only had a few pairs of shoes, and they were all flip flops and Crocs. I was what you you would call “fashionably challenged”.
I remember seeing something in a store window once when I was shopping with friend, and commenting that I liked it, to which she replied “Really? That doesn’t seem your style.”
I pondered over that statement for quite some time before I realized, that in the 10 years that she had known me, she literally had no idea what my style was- because nothing I ever wore had reflected it.
Did I have a style? It was a provoking thought.
So, you can imagine, that when it came time to buy a new wardrobe after losing the first 100 lbs, I wasn’t exactly ahead of the game.
The only thing I knew for sure was that I was desperately in need of a bra fitting, and a make-over.
I didn’t get too daring, or start to think about coming out of my comfort zone until I was pretty close to my goal. I was reluctant to buy all new clothes until I was close to the weight I was going to stay at, so the Goodwill and I were good friends throughout my entire weight-loss journey.
But even though I have found some very cute things at Goodwill, I really just wanted to be able walk into a store that had not formerly been accessible to me, and be to be able to buy something off the rack.
So when the time came, I took myself to the outlet mall, and I walked in to ‘Loft’. It was the first store that I had seen that appealed to my inner fashionista.
It was a very overwhelming experience.
Like over-the-top overwhelming.
I had never had that many choices before.
I was frozen in place trying to decide where to go.
The room started spinning, and I was completely clueless. I quickly backed out of there like the place was on fire. And then, after ducking into the Dress Barn to hide, a very nice sales woman came up and asked if she could help me.
A few moments must’ve passed because she leaned in to my line of sight and asked again, “Is there something I can help you with?”
I stared at her blankly, and said “Honestly, I have no idea. I need clothes.”
She smiled, “What’s your style?” to which I replied, “I don’t know yet. Because the last time that I was able to see something that I liked, and then actually wear it…I was in high school.”
I had no idea what would look good on me, or what I would like, or what my “style” was.
I mean, I was 43, and there had been about two decades worth of style that had passed me by. If I was going to make up for lost time, then I might end up being dressed in some retro 90’s grunge attire that would be strangley outdated.
Now I was starting to wonder if what I picked out would even be appropriate for my age. Hmmmm.
Who cares?
I always thought that was a ridiculous sentiment anyway. It shouldn’t matter what age you are, you should dress to express yourself.
But I still needed a starting point, and I knew that I needed help. And help me she did.
I certainly learned a lot about myself that day, and hopefully going forward the learning curve will be much more adaptable.
And now, after a lot of trial and error, I am pleased to announce that I left did in fact leave there that day with the basic beginnings of an actual wardrobe.
I finally know what I like, I wear what I want, and it feels amazing!
I never even knew how much I liked shoes until I had all of those outfits to buy shoes for.
And for the first time in my life, I feel confident, that if someone were to look at me, and how I am dressed, they would actually be able to tell what my style is.
My style is “happy”, my style is “healthy”, my style is “ME”!
(and a few pairs of totally adorable rockin’ boots that I wear every chance I get!)
I walked,
My head down,
when the girl looked my way-
I dared not look up,
For fear of what she would say. Continue reading The Bully
What if, when you started a race, you were not told where the finish line was?
What if you had no idea how far it was, or even if you could get to it?
What if, as you were running, they threw up obstacles, and moved it farther and farther away ?
What if, you were discouraged from trying to get to it, by being told to give up, and made to feel like it Continue reading The Finish Line
Same Hat, Different Me 