The New Batch of Crazy

For over a year now, my roommate and I have been changing aspects of our lifestyle in order to get healthier. Through this process, we've both been losing weight. Losing weight, when you do it the way we're going about it, is a slow process. Even still, results happen and said results take on some interesting little psychological twisties.

This is going to sound like a humble brag and I don't mean it that way, but last week, he asked me how I was doing on pants. When I looked at him in confusion, he said, "You're losing your butt. Your pants are really starting not to fit." Even though this is true and most pants (and shirts, for that matter) are beginning to fit in a far looser fashion, I told him I was fine. I didn't need anything new.

Today, when we were discussing the clothing and new sizes situation, I mentioned that changing sizes is a big step. It's almost a scary step. It makes the weight loss all the more real. He brought up the fact that I'd already gone down a size on my underwear (I now get more style options! And colors!), but this isn't the same thing. No one sees my panties so it's still private and quietly mine. People see my outer clothing. It's different when those sizes are going down.

I don't believe I even will or should go down any. Part of my mind refuses to admit that I've possibly lost enough weight for that to be an issue. "Your clothes are only so big because you've stretched them out," my mind will protest. "If you got new clothes in that size, they wouldn't be as loose. They probably wouldn't fit at all because you're probably too big for them."

Now, understand, I don't feel ashamed when I think that. Frustrated and annoyed but my limited options, but not ashamed. I just accept it as the state of my life. What my mind cannot accept is that perhaps the state of my life is truly changing. Perhaps new clothes at my current size truly would be as loose as the ones I have now. Even as I type that, there is this strange undercurrent of fear.

I wish I could tell you why. I really don't have the answer to that. As much as most of the sane, rational part of me rejoices at the prospect of not having to haul all this weight around with me, there is another part of me that is terrified by the idea. That part is so terrified that it tries, on almost a constant basis, to convince me that weight loss isn't possible. It's not happening and if it is happening, it's probably only because I've contracted some chronic illness and will soon die.

The more weight I lose, the louder this voice is getting. I really don' understand it and I'm very unhappy about it. I already have laziness and greed trying to keep me at an unhealthy weight. I don't need Crazytown McScaredofSkinny squawking at me as well. I know I'll get past it, but right now, this new batch of crazy is really getting on my nerves. I think I'll go see if I can put it to sleep for a while.