I've written before about my weight loss.  Here's a visual aid:

Left:  Italy, June 2009
Right: Nashville, December 2010

I didn't really start concentrating on losing weight until last March.  In a little over a year, I've lost 65-70 pounds (it's fluctuating right now; the ice cream I ate for dinner doesn't help).

I started exercising this month.  I joined a gym and everything.

... I KNOW.

I'm having a hard time not being a Fat Girl.  Like, I can look in a mirror and not recognize my own reflection.  Obviously my body looks different, but my face!  My face does not look familiar to me.

Sometimes I open my picture folder and stare at the photos, searching for the image I have of myself.  Sometimes I find it, and sometimes I don't.  It's so WEIRD, acknowledging this shift between perception and reality.  And there's a little bit of mourning, too, because I didn't realize that I was changing this much, and I didn't have a chance to adjust because it seemed to come out of nowhere.

I feel like ... I feel like I'm in witness protection, almost.  Like the past 7-8 years--the years I got fat and stayed that way--have been erased and I'm starting with nothing.  I honestly don't know how to move forward.

So.  This was depressing.  Here, have a cat.


Jude said...

I'm 56, so I can say that aging works pretty much the same way. Where's the you that was? Invisible outside, but still there inside. I know a person who lost a lot of weight, and her house is filled with photos of the earlier fat her, perhaps to inspire her to keep exercising. But to casual visitors, it's a little creepy. I can't do gyms. I have agoraphobia, so I walk 3 to 4 miles every morning between 4 and 6 a.m. It's nicer not to be overweight.

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