Downsizing

I think I'm about to the point where I'm going to need to go down a size in pants. I wanted to put this off until they were absolutely falling off of me, but I don't think that is going to work. There is a large amount of material that is now bunching up around my thighs and it's quite uncomfortable after a while. There really is no reason to be that kind of uncomfortable.

Shirts will have to wait for a while. They're not really so much of a problem yet, do to the malformation on my right arm. Until that is gone, my shirt size really can't change very much. I'm also not going to have to alter my underthings yet, though I did recently go down a size there, mainly for the same reason I'm doing the pants now. The material was just getting on my nerves. The new underthings were tight at first, but now they're starting to become more comfortable. Maybe in a few more months, they'll be loose enough to be replaced again.

When you've been very, very heavy for a long time, there are shrinkage things that catch you off guard. The other night, I put on a knitted hat I'd made for myself a few years ago. I was used to it fitting a certain way . . . kind of tight and slightly uncomfortable. Instead, it just slipped easily onto my head.

It was the strangest thing, to anticipate something to fit you one way and have it fit another. The best way I can explain it is that odd sensation when you think you're about to take a drink of water and suddenly coke hits your mouth. It's not unpleasant, but it's very shocking, sometimes so much so that you spit it out.

Sometimes when I read over the stuff I write about weight loss, I notice that a lot of it sounds like I'm full of dread about this process. I'll be honest with you; part of me is full of dread. My weight going backwards is a very uncommon thing for me. I've been fat for so long, most of the time, I never even believed this could really happen. The fact that it is fills me with a lot of gratitude and happiness. It also freaks me out. I worry that it will stop. I worry that it is just some sign that I'm dying. I worry that it will happen and while I will be healthy, the rest of my life will fall to pieces do to unseen circumstances that directly link back to my weight.

It's important to acknowledge these things. The more I discuss my fears, the more I can own them, process them, and move past them. I do want to be healthy . . . at least, the rational parts of my mind do. It would be, if nothing else, at least novel for me. It will make life easier in a million ways. It will make my mind shut the hell up about the subject. How could that possibly be bad?